


Wandering Lost

by Stormcalled (Raidho)



Series: In Perfect Love and Perfect Trust [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - King and Knight, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood and Gore, Dark Knight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Dragoon Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Machinist Warrior of Light, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Masochism, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Nightmares, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PTSD, Platonic Relationships, Rimming, Specific Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Throne Sex, platonic intimacy, shitposts become reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 39,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raidho/pseuds/Stormcalled
Summary: A catch-all for short stories set in the same continuity as In Perfect Love and Perfect Trust.  Ratings and tags subject to change.





	1. Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

> Following in the same vein as my collection of shorts from the FFXIVWrite2019 challenge, these will be in no particular chronological or story-relevant order. Some will be AUs, some will be backstory, some will be one-offs set after Perfect that may or may not come to pass.
> 
> If you want to chat or shoot story ideas at me, follow me on Twitter @AStormcalled or on Tumblr @dellebecque.

“I know it’s in here somewhere, he never leaves without… Oh, what’s this?”

Ryne leaned over the amaro, momentarily abandoning her lookout to see Alisaie produce from the saddlebag a small box with a lovely checked pattern of different woods, a note affixed to it with a bit of red ribbon. It didn’t seem to have hinges or a latch, but after untying the ribbon and a moment of fiddling Alisaie figured out that the catch was carved into the box. The container was a lovely piece of artwork by itself, and Ryne gave a little, “Oooh,” as Alisaie finally opened it.

“Ah-ha! Now we’ll--” She straightened up, staring down at the contents in confusion.

“What is it?” Ryne asked excitedly.

Alisaie didn’t answer immediately, putting the box down on the ground next to her and taking up the note. Ryne crawled up onto the amaro, which made a soft _ chirr _ at the motion, and balanced atop it to read the note upside down, hair falling over her shoulder to hang in a curtain around one side of the paper.

> _ Aden, _
> 
> _ I regret every moment that we must be parted, but I know that you will return to me. Pray permit me to care for you in what way I may even in your absence. When your journey is done-- _

Alisaie suddenly snapped the note closed, and Ryne yelped as it nearly caught her dangling hair. “Well, that was saucier than I needed to know about,” Alisaie said.

“What did it say?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Alisaie answered. “What matters is Aden hasn’t opened this yet, so if we take a bit....” She picked the box back up, finally revealing it to be packed with an immaculately prepared, _ delectable _ looking and smelling meal. In the middle of the box stood a thin ridge of wood, which she carefully lifted, revealing a second layer and-- “Oh, _gods_.” Alisaie sighed audibly as a rich, earthy and creamy aroma reached Ryne’s nose. “_Tiramisu_,” she said, in a positively lusty voice. “The box must be lined in ice crystal inside, it’s quite cool, and to keep this firm with confidence as long as we’ve been gone....”

“I don’t think we should take this if the Exarch made it for him. What’s tiramisu?” Ryne shifted back slightly on the amaro so she could look Alisaie in the eye--at exactly the right time to finally see Aden standing behind her, arms folded and glowering down. She slowly pushed herself back off the amaro, eyes glued to him. Ryne wasn’t afraid of him but that wasn’t a _ friendly _ look.

“He doesn’t even like sweets--I can’t believe you grew up in _ Eulmore _ and you don’t know what _ tiramisu _ is, Ryne. It’s a--sort of a--” She lowered the box and looked up as if racking her brain for an explanation. “It’s--”

“Yes, Alisaie,” Aden muttered, voice low and dark, the barest edge of a growl under it, “what’s tiramisu?”

Alisaie leapt to her feet, carefully balancing the open box in one hand as if it were her focus, and brandishing the note in her other. “Give me your dessert or I’ll tell everyone about your lunch!”

He scoffed, ears flicking to the sides and tail curling behind him. “Like I give a damn.” Aden snatched the box from her hand with such speed Ryne thought he’d simply knocked it out of her hand at first.

“Oh, but you will!” Alisaie shook the note open in her other hand, and thrust it up into his face with a grin. “I’ll tell _ Thancred_, and he’ll tell _ everyone_.”

Aden’s eyes flicked back and forth as he read, a little smile curling one corner of his lips and his ears shifting to a friendlier position. His tail uncurled, then curled again, and then as he finished he seemed to remember his situation. He pinned his ears back, glaring past the note at Alisaie. “You wouldn’t.”

“I _ won’t_,” she said, “If you give me your dessert.”

This time he _ did _ growl, gritting out, “Deal.”

Ryne didn’t like it, but she _ did _ rather enjoy splitting the most _ divine _ food she’d ever had with Alisaie.

* * *

It all came to an end a sennight later back in the Crystarium, sitting in Alisaie’s room. Ryne flipped through a book the Mean had put out of lovely design drawings made by their artisans, and Alisaie reclined on the bed spinning her focus and regaling Ryne with a rather embarrassing story about her friend Lyse. The door exploded open, and Y’shtola burst in like a riled wolverine. She shouted Alisaie’s full name (Ryne had no idea she had one middle name, let alone two), and as the girl sprung from the bed Y'shtola lunged across the room, snatched the tip of one of Alisaie's elegantly pointed ears and _ twisted. _ "_You_," Y'shtola snarled, "owe _ someone _ an _ apology." _She dragged Alisaie out by her ear, and yelled from the door, “You too, Ryne!”

She scurried along, shrinking back when they picked up a grim-faced Captain Lyna. The viis shadowed them as Y’shtola dragged Alisaie out of the Pendants, across the Exedra, and up the stairs to the Crystal Tower, completely heedless of who saw them at this time of evening. The guards gave her an alarmed look but Lyna waved them on.

Once the doors shut behind them Y’shtola let go of Alisaie’s ear and grabbed her shoulder, marching her up the stairs. As they neared the limit of familiar surroundings Lyna slipped ahead, calling out at the door of the Ocular, “My lord, I have some important business that requires your immediate attention.”

His soft voice sounded from within, and Lyna pushed the door open for them. Y’shtola all but pushed Alisaie inside, and Ryne demurely entered after, keeping her head down. She could guess what this was about.

Ryne risked a glance up in time to catch the shift of the Exarch's ears, his eyes widening in surprise for a split second before he composed himself. Y’shtola shoved Alisaie in front of him and ordered, “Explain.”

“Explain what? I don’t know wha--” Y’shtola tweaked her ear again and Alisaie yelped. “Alright! Alright! I--I’ve been extorting part of Aden’s lunches out of him! The ones you’ve been sending with him when we’re out!”

That surprise returned momentarily, and then his chin tilted up, ears rapidly pinning back then pointing as he gazed down at Alisaie. If a look alone could set someone on fire, _ this was it_, and it was _ terrifying _ on the face of such a gentle man. “This is why he has been so curt with me about them,” he said, words very deliberate and tone carefully measured. It reminded her in some ways of Aden when he was trying not to seem angry, but they carried themselves quite differently while doing it--something about the Exarch seemed more arrogant, more personally insulted. His face turned to Y’shtola before his eyes left Alisaie, still glaring down his nose at her. “How did you discover this?”

Y’shtola let go, and Alisaie clapped her hands over her ears to prevent further assault. Y’shtola’s tail curled behind her. “Urianger mentioned to me some suns ago that Ryne had come to him asking for the definition of some rather inappropriate words one might expect only to pass in bawdy conversation or between lovers.” Ryne gasped, covering her face as Alisaie looked over her shoulder and glowered. For his part the Exarch blushed very, very faintly, gaze finally darting to Y’shtola. “Shortly after I noted a whiff of what seemed to be _ very _ fine chocolate about Alisaie’s person, and querying Alphinaud about it he revealed she’d taunted him with a handful of chocolate-dipped fruits of which she would not disclose the origin. He remarked it had seemed quite strange that she should come into possession of such a thing in Fanow, where they were at the time, isolated as it is.” Y’shtola crossed her arms, looked over Alisaie’s head to Lyna.

“Forgive me, my lord, but I approached Y’shtola to ask her about the concerns you voiced to me regarding Aden’s behavior. I did not mean to betray your trust, only to seek the aid of one who knows him well, and who is possessed of a keen intellect.”

Y’shtola gave her an approving nod. “The moment she mentioned the desserts as a point of contention, that he had distressingly little to say about them, everything fell into place.” She glowered down at Alisaie, arms still crossed. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re an excellent coo--_ ow! _” Alisaie flinched away from Y’shtola after a smack on the back of the head, glaring. “Gods, must you be so violent about it?”

The anger finally seemed to drain out of the Exarch all at once, and he covered his face with his spoken hand, shaking his head, the flush a little higher on his cheeks. “I should never have written that note…”

“No, the blame lies squarely with our extortionist here. Go on, Alisaie. It does you no favors to be so reluctant when you’ve done harm to our friends.”

With a sigh Alisaie turned to the Exarch, and dropped to one knee before him as he let his hand fall back to his side. “I apologize for going through Aden’s things, and for reading your private correspondence, and for using it against him, and for causing the two of you strife. I would never--” She hesitated, looked up at him from her bow, and lowered her voice. “I would never want anything to come between you two. You deserve better than what I’ve done.

If he’d been a hyur the Exarch would’ve blushed to his ears, but as it stood it looked strange around the crystal on his face. “Apology accepted.”

“Now,” Y’shtola said, “the question remains--what will you do to make up for this transgression?”

Alisaie craned her head around, still kneeling, “Whatever is required of me?”

“I have an idea of what punishment Aden would prescribe.” And then came the third emotion Ryne had not seen on the Exarch’s face before, one that seemed _ surprisingly _ natural: the glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “And since he is not here for the apology, ‘twould seem fitting.”

* * *

Two suns hence Alisaie straightened in the shade of the amaro stables, leaning on her pitchfork. Her back screamed, and sweat soaked through her loose tunic. _ Gods_, but this was _ truly _ backbreaking work, far more involved than any combat training she’d endured with the endless repetitive motion. And to think, Aden did this _ to clear his mind! _

And speaking of, there he went, walking past shoulder to shoulder with the man who had set her to this task. She watched them pass. In every aspect each of them seemed totally focused on the other, as if nothing else in the world existed. From this side she couldn’t make out much of the Exarch’s expression, but Aden smiled softly in response, eyes lighting up as he spoke. It was by far the happiest she’d ever seen him. Something in her ached at that, but it was different from before. She folded both arms over the shaft of the pitchfork, balancing it carefully. The third time she’d met him, in Ishgard, Aden had been larger than life, and seemed to exist in a haze of darkness and sorrow, heart’s blood spilled on cold, unforgiving stone. She’d ached to ease that suffering, to find the young man who had helped her lay her grandfather to rest, but she’d always known that could not be her lot. It was about time the universe that took so much from the Warrior of Light gave him something back. Seeing that smile, she felt no jealousy, only relief.

Well, that was a lie.

“What did you think of the tarts?”

“There’s only one thing sweeter.” Aden stole a quick, chaste kiss, and the Exarch sputtered, laughing.

“You’re _ incorrigible!_”

“I had a good teacher when it comes to mischief.”

“You’re right, that’s _ exactly _ the sort of thing I would’ve done if I’d understood what I was feeling.”

“Consider it a much kinder payback for that time you flicked my ear for listening in on you singing.”

She was jealous that Aden got to have that sweet, gentle, powerful man’s cooking _ whenever the hells he wanted_.


	2. Sweet Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While scouting ahead for the survey team during the exploration of the Crystal Tower, Aden and G'raha stumble upon something unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laying some groundwork for scenes that will happen in Perfect.

Aden made his way into the room first, G'raha on his heels with bow drawn to provide cover at a moment's notice. In the soft glow of crystal they found themselves at the head of a set of oddly spaced steps, shadowy rows of seats to either side. At the base of the steps sat a raised platform, the soft light casting eerie shadows off a group of objects there.

"'Tis an amphitheater, " G'raha breathed behind him, and Aden slowly descended the steps. "Of all the places to find one… See if you can locate controls for the lights. "

They mounted the stage, and G'raha slung his bow to drift to the objects with their distorted shadows in something of a daze. Aden made his way backstage, and after a bit of fumbling found what seemed to be a control panel. While he fiddled with dials soft sounds drifted from the stage, notes in no particular order plucked on a harp, gentle taps on a drum, other instruments he didn't recognize. "That's it," G'raha called, and Aden made his was back up towards the now softly lit stage.

G'raha stood center stage amidst a semicircle of instruments laid out on stands, as if the performers would arrive at any moment. He held a beautifully carved and inlaid lute cradled in his arms, delicately tuning it. Aden drew near enough to admire the craftsmanship, knowing he couldn't make such a thing in a hundred years. It'd probably be that long before Beatin let him even  _ think _ about touching an order for an instrument. Still, he knew enough to appreciate the form if not entirely the function.   


G'raha's tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration, ears bent towards the instrument at what looked like a painful angle. After a moment he seemed to notice Aden, and looked up. "This place has  _ marvelous  _ acoustics." He sang a few pure, clear notes, tuning the instrument as he did so, and his ears and eyes darted about the room. After a moment he pointed to a spot in the auditorium. "That should be the best spot for listening."

"How do you know?" Aden glanced around, looking for some hidden indicator.   


"Rough estimation," G'raha answered. "Sound produces some fascinating math, I think you'd like it very much--even if you couldn't carry a tune if it snuck up and caught you by the tail."

Aden turned back with an exaggerated glower and caught G'raha's signature cheeky grin, mismatched eyes alight with fond mirth. "Why don't you go have a seat," he gestured with the lute, "and we'll see what this old girl can do before the others catch up and chastise us for playing with the artifacts."

"I thought you didn't want anyone listening to you." Aden's ears canted in his direction, slightly angled, one brow barely raised.   


"How often does one have the opportunity to play a thousands-year-old instrument in an expertly engineered concert hall?" G'raha shot back, still grinning. "And perhaps I don't mind so much, considering you have already heard me. Go on."

Aden did so, sitting close to the middle in the general area G'raha had indicated. As soon as he situated himself, spear draped across the seat next to him, G'raha's voice and the rich accompaniment of the lute filled the hall.

There was something… satisfying, and eerie about it, a weird shift in the humming aether of the Tower around them. It resonated with G'raha's voice, something a person less keenly attuned to delicate shifts in aether would miss. As if the Tower recognized the ancient song played on the ancient instrument, sung by a son of ancient blood…. And beautiful, besides. G'raha possessed a spectacular voice, and it felt as though the hall had been constructed for exactly this moment, he the performer, Aden the sole audience. Aden leaned back, staring at the crystal ceiling overhead, and let that sound suffuse him.   


Inevitably G'raha's voice faded away, and the last sweet strains of the lute. Aden remained as he was for a moment, unwilling to move and disrupt this perfect peace. Eventually G'raha came to him, leaning over the chair from behind. "Oh, good. You had me worried I had put you to sleep."

"That was beautiful." A slow blink up at the scholar slipped out before Aden realized he’d done it.

G’raha smiled down at him, ears shifting from their usual alert into a relaxed position. It wasn’t any of his usual teasing, mocking, or mischievous looks--it was genuine, unguarded,  _ proud _ , perhaps a little embarrassed. “Come on,” and he clapped Aden on one shoulder, “the rest of the survey team will be here any moment, best they don't catch us lazing about.”


	3. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More post-ShB. The Warrior of Light receives an unexpected visitor in the only way he could. TW for violence PTSD and a panic attack.

Aden startled awake to a dull prickling behind his eyes, the low, rolling growl of  _ threat _ in the Echo that only meant one thing.

“So this is where you’ve gone, my friend.”

With Tower’s systems in this room on their lowest power as intended for sleep, dimly growing crystal cast eerie shapes across the planes of the face looming over him. Aden tried to roll away but an immense weight settled across his hips, crushing him into the bed. Mad laughter bubbled up from the interloper’s lips as Aden growled and swung at him. He caught Aden’s wrist in his massive hand, squeezed painfully.

“Soft.  _ Weak _ . Do not tell me your time here has turned you  _ domestic _ .” His other hand clenched around Aden’s throat, the palm covering his whole neck, and  _ squeezed _ . “If I must remind you of your  _ savagery _ , eikon-slayer, I will do so.”

Aden couldn’t get leverage with his other hand, the bone in his upper arm still weak and healing from a break during his fight against the great abyssal beast in the Tempest. He strained against his captor’s hold regardless, struggled to get enough breath to shout. “Oh, if you can find the strength,  _ shout _ for him, the master of this tower, he with the temerity to claim himself capable of standing at your side. I desire nothing more than to experience your shared brutality!” Spots danced at the edge of his vision, until it narrowed down on that predatory grin. “Come,  _ my beast _ , if you will not bare your teeth for me, I will  _ wring _ that resolve from you.”

Fear and rage in equal parts clawed their way up his throat as his vision darkened. No voice so like his own whispered, but he heard his heartbeat slow and stop, felt dark power suffuse his limbs.

Aden startled awake to the sensation of  _ falling _ , wrestling against soft restraints. Something  _ ripped _ , and he caught himself on his right arm only for it to collapse beneath him with a sharp lance of pain across the site of the still-healing break. He held no breath with which to yell, chest heaving and throat tight, but he pushed through the pain and rolled onto his back, ears flicking in all directions and eyes rolling to locate the threat.  _ He’s dead, he’s dead with a fucking  _ ascian _ puppeting his corpse, how is he  _ here _ \-- _

Aden found no one else in the room, no brutal giant of a man here to rip his baser nature from the healing shards of his mind, no pulse of threat in the Echo. The tatters of a soft old quilt bound his limbs, ripped in his fervent fight for freedom, and he managed to wriggle out braced on his left arm, the right cradled against his chest. Eventually he flopped against the crystal floor, staring up into blue shadow, struggling to breathe. Every time he blinked, he saw Zenos, felt that hand around his throat.

“...Aden?”   


His ears perked, shifted to the side, and his throat tightened for  _ another _ reason.  _ Run before he comes back _ filled his mind for an irrational moment. Aden’s breath quickened again, his heart raced. Spots edged at his vision.

“... _ Oh.” _ A spark of shame filled him as Raha entered his vision, knelt next to him, and passed his crystal hand within Aden’s vision, allowing him to see the trajectory, before settling it on his side. Raha moved slowly, deliberately, doing nothing Aden could not see part of to predict, and carefully lifted him, pulling him to his feet and taking most of his weight. Thought Raha could easily scoop him up and move him more efficiently, he did not--and Aden was grateful as he was disappointed. It warred in him as always, his inability to relax enough to accept the help and his shame at  _ needing  _ it, against his longing for  _ once _ just  _ once  _ (the hundredth time,  _ gods _ this beautiful man) to be saved.   


They wound up on the bed again, Raha leaning against the headboard and easing Aden down with him, Raha’s chest pressed against his back. “Breathe with me, love. In,” he took an exaggerated breath, and Aden struggled to follow, “out. Good, very good. Once more.” They continued like that until Aden found enough breath for a strangled sound of distress, turned in Raha’s embrace to lean against him, and buried his head in the crook of Raha’s neck, face pressed to cool crystal. What happened here, in the circle of his lover’s arms, existed beyond shame and out of sight. Aden permitted himself to be weak for a while, until he’d wrung the fear and directionless adrenaline from himself and lay there bonelessly, pained and weary, Raha’s fingers carding gently through his hair.

“I have you, love,” Raha murmured softly into one ear. “You’re safe.”

He felt Raha’s heartbeat and the deep hum of the Tower both through his skin, the little tingle of their attunement syncing up in close contact. All of it reminded him where he was, grounded him to time and place, and he finally breathed a shaky little, “ _ Shit. _ ”

A soft laugh rolled through his lover’s chest, jostling him slightly. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Aden repeated, voice harsh and breaking.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Raha stopped combing through his hair, that hand trailing down to rub small circles on his back.   


“Nightmare.” Aden took a deep, shuddering breath, filled himself with the scent of his lover. “Zenos.” He tried not to feel anything at that.

“Well,” Raha paused, the Tower’s hum shifting in pitch before he continued, “no one aside from us is inside the Tower at the moment.”

Aden took one full, free breath. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my love.” Raha’s hand trailed down to stroke the fur of his tail, and Aden relaxed further into his embrace. “Is aught else amiss?”

“Hurt my arm.” They shuffled a bit in place until Raha had enough freedom to examine it, trailing his fingers over the bruised flesh and a little tingle of aether working its way in. It’d never felt foreign, the ancient power of the Tower and the gentle sunset-warmth of Raha, but it resonated even more strongly with his own these days, dove easier into his flesh to knit his hurts.   


Raha frowned in concentration. “Cracked, I think. Perhaps we should get you a splint, in case….”

In case he panicked and fell again. “Alright.” Aden possessed no strength for more than a few words, and knew now his companions would  _ make _ the time for him to heal. He could commit to that.

“In the mean time….” Raha’s magic slowly grew in strength, knitting the site of the recent break back together. Once upon a time he would’ve been healed already, but now… things were different, now. “There, that should do for healing, now we need only worry about protecting it.”

With the pain fading another soft, breathy little, “ _ Shit,”  _ escaped Aden, and he curled in towards Raha once more, shaking as how  _ fucked up _ all that had been finally hit him. Raha merely embraced him once more, laid a kiss at the base of each ear as Aden pressed against him, and began to murmur a soft, low song.

He could be weak, here, in the circle of his lover’s arms, and he did just that until sleep took him again.


	4. Autumn in Lakeland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first autumn in a hundred years descends upon Lakeland, and the Tower requires some adjustments. The Exarch and Aden find themselves with a sudden need to drop everything and get busy living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't be writing this because I'm spoiling some things for Perfect but shit's been weird and I really, really needed to write some fluff. Please enjoy fluff: established relationship edition.
> 
> You can yell at me on Twitter @AStormcalled or tumblr @dellebecque

The first autumn in a century came on slowly at first, the sunlight taking on a nostalgic golden hue in late afternoons that put him in mind of Aden’s amber eye. The moon rose heavy and full and yellow as a gourd through crisp air and set in fog off the lake. Sunflowers appeared on his desk every few days, sometimes large in a tall, slender vase, sometimes small and bundled together with a bit of twine in a jar. Some of the little ones bore dark red petals fading to yellow at the edges, and it put him in mind of Aden’s hair with its golden highlights. More often than not he caught himself looking up from his research, staring and sighing, heart full. And then his love would come home, smelling of blood and leather and sweat, or of clean earth and growing things. He would enfold him in his arms regardless, for every time he came home was still like the first in this spring of their love.

When the leaves changed color and dropped the populace turned to him for reassurance, for such an occurrence many of them had never seen. And curiously--or perhaps not--they turned to Aden as well, for he had established himself quite thoroughly with the Hortorium. Raha watched smiling as Aden, unaware of his observation, raked leaves into a pile for a group of young children to pounce in, and raked them up again when the kids scattered them too far. His love’s soft, unburdened smile made every single second of those hundred years worthwhile, and the bright love finally unguarded in his face and the curl of his tail and the cant of his ears when Aden caught sight of him. This was the life they should have been living all along, the one that suited them.

As the nights grew chill so too grew few few those nights when Raha rose from their shared bed sobbing silently, heart heavy with memories of a future that never was. When he walked the halls of the Tower, feeling detached from his body and empty of self. Inevitably his love would find him, and lead him gently back to bed, or to the balcony, or to the garden, and remind him that he lived, and that it was a blessing. Worse still were the memories of that achingly familiar city, and the pain and pressure of another presence trying to brute force its way into his weary mind. He’d never shaken the feeling of familiarity in that aetherial touch, that somehow that attempt to breach his mind and his soul and wring from him all his secrets was doubly a violation for it, though he had never trusted the Ascian enough to warrant such feelings. Rarer still, and more terrible, was that vision in white and night blue and gold ripping itself out of his love’s skin, the heart-stopping fear that he had  _ arrived too late _ . He  _ wailed _ when he woke from that nightmare, unable to contain his sorrow and rage, and the Tower all but shook each time while his lover took him into his arms until he quieted, and then let his hands roam to prove flesh had been restored to flesh.

As such autumn was a season of healing. Each passing day a little less weight bore him down, he grew a little more accepting of being  _ alive _ . This was a gift. A  _ blessing _ . No matter how much time remained to them, they would live it in such a way as to leave no regrets.

So Raha barely noticed when the chill first set into his crystalline bones. He thought nothing of the fact that sleep came more readily, or that he took larger portions at dinner. It happened subtly, slowly building over time, until one day he sat in the midst of several books, skipping between them for references, and a great yawn all but cracked his jaw in half. The muscles of his face ached, unused to such extreme motion save in intimate circumstances, and the fur of his tail tucked beneath his robes fluffed in alarm. That hadn’t happened since…

...Since….

...He all but faceplanted into an open book.

* * *

Fingers carded through his hair in a delightfully repetitive motion, occasionally stopping to rub at the base of an ear or stroke it gently, sending a little shudder down his spine. A shiver chased it as he felt even colder than usual, and he curled further into himself.

“Raha.” Soft, pleading, the faintest edge of a familiar old accent sneaking out. “Raha, please. Wake up.”

When that voice asked, he could not ignore it. He struggled from a deep darkness through layers of true sleep up to dim blue light and a page smushed against his face, blinking rapidly to clear his bleary eyes. A soft, relieved, “Hells,” sounded above him. The hand in his hair stilled, and he made an insistent sound of displeasure, shivering again.

“Sorry,” Raha managed after a few false starts. He pushed himself up, Aden’s hand leaving his hair entirely to wrap around his opposite shoulder, steadying him. While he rubbed at his eyes Aden drew a little closer, and Raha found himself leaning against Aden’s stomach. His lover smelled like drying grass and late season flowers today. A day of peace.

“You alright?” Aden’s voice reverberated through his body, and Raha felt it as much as he heard it, cradled against him so. He shivered again, and chased the warmth of his lover’s body, sluggish limbs rising to wrap around Aden’s waist.

Raha didn’t respond right away, screwing up his tired mind and pushing past his own dimmed sense of alarm to query the Tower’s systems. For a moment he stared off into space, both within and without himself. Aden’s grip tightened slightly, his free hand coming to rest just below Raha’s ear and pressing him close. The Tower responded… slowly. Still fast as thought, but he’d grown to recognize what Cid might have deemed ‘lag’ in the systems. A little spark of worry jolted him back to himself, settling him into his own flesh--into the nearness of Aden, into  _ his _ flesh and aether dimly as the man fed a little of his own aether across the bond of their attunement. Things seemed clearer with that.

“I will be,” Raha answered. He shivered again, and pressed himself further into Aden. “The Tower is recalibrating its systems for the environmental changes now that the seasons have returned. For shortening days and different demands for power across the city. It has cut power to internal non-essentials for the process and reduced power as much as is safe to essential systems.”

“...And which are you?”

Raha laughed, tilting his head back just enough to look up. He caught the moment mismatched eyes shifted out of worry at his amusement. “Essential, my love. But for the moment it seems I cannot rely upon the Tower for strength, though I could force the matter if absolutely necessary--the control systems will still defer to me. Worry not, I am in no danger.”

“For how long?”

A quick query of the systems provided him with, “Estimated two days to power rebalance.” He refocused on Aden’s eyes, blinking slowly up at him. “So for two days I suppose my age and the abuse which I have heaped upon myself will be catching up to me.”

“I’ll just carry you around when your hip gives out on you, old man.” Aden leaned down to plant a kiss at the base of one of his ears, and Raha wiggled them, fur tickling Aden’s face. “Like the fairytale prince you are,” he added in a soft murmur directly into Raha’s ear.

* * *

Reality, of course, was far less glamorous. The Tower only heated its most commonly used rooms, and Raha had little aether to spare for cycling through the crystal, so it slowly leeched the warmth from his body. Aden all but swaddled him in every blanket the two of them possessed, but he couldn’t keep up heating so much crystal through without the aid of magic. His joints began to ache, the crystal of his bones making not a popping sound but a horrendous  _ crack _ when he stood. One of his knees  _ did _ give out, and the site of his recently recovered bullet wound hurt in the cold--but only when Aden was near enough for their attunement to cause the crystal to remember where all the nerves of his flesh had been. For once their strange bond wasn’t entirely a blessing.

He lay curled in bed, dozing frequently and  _ miserable _ , when a scent caught his attention, Raha wrapped the blankets around his head like a hood, pressing his ears painfully down to his skull, and focused, examining the smell. It was… warm, full, and… he began picking out spices, root vegetables. His stomach growled loudly and cramped, reminding him just how little he’d eaten in the past several decades. But like the brilliant savior of two worlds he was, Aden appeared at exactly that moment carrying a tray stacked with a pair of bowls, a familiar mug, and a boule of bread. Raha scrambled upright at his approach, pushed the pillows back into some semblance of order so he could lean against the headboard, and hastily extricated himself from his cocoon of blankets. When Aden sat on the edge of the bed, drawing one leg up so he could face Raha and balancing the tray across his lap, the smell only grew. His mouth  _ watered _ , and for a moment he only had eyes for the contents of the bowls. One held a rather hearty looking stew, the other… some unfamiliar dish. “You cooked,” he said with some surprise, not quite a question.

“I can cook when I have to,” Aden said with mock offense. “...Though I had Feo go get the recipe for the soup from Ma. And she sent copious notes.” Aden shrugged a little with one shoulder, gaze cast down a bit sheepishly. His usual excuse dressed up in different clothing: good at following instructions. “The other’s a rice pudding.” Raha reflexively made a face; he’d had plenty of rice pudding in Sharlayan, every time he got sick as a child. “Not like that Sharlayan shit the twins told me about,” he quickly added, as if Raha’s expression said all he needed to know. “I got this one from a… friend.” Aden looked away briefly. He still struggled with that word, Raha knew. “He also sent a lot of notes.” That one sounded different.  _ As if he thought I could fuck up something this simple _ , Raha read between the lines.   


And he instantly knew who. “Stormcaller?” Raha asked, reaching for the tray.

"Yeah." Aden helped him settle it, making sure everything balanced properly. With everything so close he picked up the delicate spicing of the pudding behind the hearty smell of the stew, and the tea steaming in the mug--his favorite. The tray spread much needed warmth across his lap. Spoon in hand he hesitated, eyes misting over slightly at the sight of everything before him. He’d always dreamed of doting on his long-lost love, an impossible dream, and to have him returning the favor in such an unexpected way--Raha looked up, lost in Aden’s eyes for a long moment, hunger forgotten in his lovesickness.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aden said softly, and he leaned forward, carefully avoiding the tray to plant a kiss on Raha’s forehead.  _ I would do anything for you _ , he said, in the careful squeeze as his hands settled on Raha’s shoulders.  _ I will do everything for you _ . As he drew away he added, “But your food is getting cold.”

The food was delicious, and warm, and exactly what he needed.

* * *

Aden stayed close, waiting on him hand and foot, and it felt  _ strange _ to be doted on even knowing theirs was a relationship of equals. One hundred years of emotional isolation and almost religious devotion to the man he loved left little room for the  _ reality _ of that love’s reciprocation.

Despite the novelty eventually Raha grew  _ bored _ . After so long spent waiting and working himself to exhaustion by turns the sensation was unfamiliar. His old self bubbled to the surface with it, and he caught himself pouting, bit back a whine. As ever he warred with himself before asking anything selfish, but finally concluded Aden was here for  _ him _ , and it would be remiss not to  _ tell _ Aden when he wanted something. “I believe a change of scenery might do me some good. Would you accompany me to the garden?”

Aden’s ears shifted upright and forward in a gesture of… not quite alarm. “It’ll be cold.”

“I shall have you.” Raha drew the blankets up over his nose, peering out at Aden with pleading eyes. Aden snorted, an undignified sound, and without warning swept Raha up into his arms, blankets and all. He made a sound of alarm as the world shifted unexpectedly, and laid his head against Aden’s shoulder. “You need not carry me, I am not yet so infirm!”

“That’s a lot of stairs to get to the teleporter,” Aden replied, and then a grin broke out across his face. “Besides, I already told you I’m going to carry you around. I’ve got an excuse, I’m using it.”

_ Like the fairytale prince you are _ , he recalled as the exact phrasing, and Raha blushed, ears wiggling a little, and a soft sound of acceptance escaped him. He relinquished some of his usual firm control, relaxed into Aden’s arms. He reached up and splayed a hand against Aden’s chest, idly tracing the lines of muscle through the soft fabric of his shirt. For a little while… for a little while, yes, he could accept this. He would indulge in this forced rest, and indulge his lover’s doting.

They swept out onto the grand platform that had once been the throne room under a harvest moon and the shade of fruit trees yet full with turning leaves. Raha shivered, wrapping the blankets tighter around himself as Aden gently set him on his feet. The amount of control and care in that famously brutal body never ceased to amaze him. Would that the people of the Source saw him as the people of the Crystarium had come to, as a whole man rather than a weapon. Raha shook that thought from his mind, and snaked one hand out of the wrap of blankets to grasp Aden’s.

They strolled together in the moonlight ‘neath twined boughs, the air crisp and heady with the scents of all the world going to sleep for the winter, and late apples. Aden snatched one from a branch and they passed it back and forth, tails twining together when hands were full. Aden brought him up to speed on the work done to put the gardens to bed, here and in the city. They turned to talk of training the skywatchers, and first frost, and Raha listened smiling just as much as he talked. He’d spent time learning about these things, read what remained of Aden’s body of scientific work in that future that never was, so that he could engage him on his field of study. And yet sometimes he could only bask in the man’s enthusiasm and brilliance, hidden from so many. Truly, he was blessed.

They made a circuit of the garden and then wended their way inward, past berry bushes with their leaves crinkling up for the season, to an opening where beds of herbs lay covered over with hay to protect them from the cold. While the Tower provided a degree of protection and the design of the garden discouraged frost on these lower reaches, they could never be too careful with these delicate plants, some of them rare medicines.

Raha tugged Aden down to sit in the hay with him on a bed he knew to be safe. Rather than go peacefully Aden sat down behind him, enfolding Raha in his arms, blankets and all. With a sigh of mock resignation (and more contentment than anything) Raha leaned back against him. He settled his head against Aden’s shoulder, his lover’s short, neat beard just barely brushing him, and stared up at the moon.

“I want you here,” Raha murmured, “in peace, in comfort, surrounded by this monument I made to you. While I am weak with the Tower’s near-sleeping and more myself than the instrument of its power. Yet…” He struggled for the right words, wondering if he should say more at all. “...I fear I am too weary in body and mind to make this an exchange of equals or to take charge as usual.”

Aden shifted ever so slightly behind him, curled around him, one hand threading into his hair to support the weight of his head. Then warm lips met his throat, tasting his pulse, and Raha  _ shook _ . “Let me take care of you.”

“I want to feel you,” Raha gasped. Aden’s other hand worked its way beneath the blankets, tugging up the skirt of the heavier, simpler robes he’d donned for warmth and comfort. “I want you to claim me. I want to give myself to you, while I--” His grip on the blankets slipped as Aden’s lips trailed across crystal, and the subtle feed of aether on his passing set every inch of his crystal skin  _ alive _ . The falling blankets exposed his shoulders to the cool air, and Aden immediately took advantage, trailing kisses down across the crystal. “--am my own to give.”

“It’ll be cold,” Aden said against his skin.

“I shall have you,” Raha repeated, and Aden bore him to the ground, propped on one arm and leaning over him to continue his sweet assault. When he could spare a hand to do so Raha spread the blankets out, and Aden sat up long enough for Raha to do so. With that restrictive barrier now serving as a guard against the prickly hay Aden leaned back down and caught his lips in gentle, slow kiss. His other hand resumed its work, finally hitching the robe up to Raha’s waist. Raha shivered with the cold, but Aden’s tongue distracted him, and then the warm fingers trailing down the V of his torso reminded him. With Aden’s constant nearness all that dead crystal and the adjacent flesh had been awake for some time, and the infamous eagerness of their people saw him already growing uncomfortably hard.

They parted for breath, and Aden murmured, “We don’t have any slick.”

“Ah.  _ Details _ .” Raha let his head fall back against the blankets, hay crinkling beneath him, and tapped into the sluggish systems of the Tower. With a teleportation terminal nearby bringing the item to himself shouldn’t be difficult, but actually grabbing it…. After a moment of concentration he put out his hand, and a little half-full jar materialized in it.

Aden made a soft, flat sound. “You’ll wear yourself out.” He took the jar regardless, putting it where it’d be in reach.

“Not before you do.” He grinned, ears wiggling again, and reached up to fist his hands in the fabric of Aden’s shirt and tugged him down once more. Raha possessed little energy for more aggression than that, and less will. He was… content. The slowing days of the season, the distance of the Tower from his awareness, and the tender sweetness of Aden’s attentions had him in a strange mood.   


He let his hands wander down to the hem of Aden’s shirt and slide back up under it, sought skin with his fingers… but he did no more than touch as his lover resumed the ministrations of his lips once more. Aden propped himself up on one elbow, but slid that hand around to the back of Raha’s head, carefully pulling the tie loose and slowly picking apart his braid. “I want to see you,” he muttered against Aden’s lips, and tugged at the shirt. Aden drew back reluctantly, and did not rise to let Raha pull it off fully, leaving the shirt trapped on one arm. Raha tugged at it, pouting playfully, and Aden chuckled, the  _ rarest _ of his laughs, before he leaned back in and pressed his cheek to Raha’s, flicked one of Raha’s ears with his own. He reached up for a moment, drug his fingers along the soft line of beard along Aden’s chin.

Finally,  _ finally _ , Aden threw one leg over his thigh, straddling him, and paid him comeuppance by tugging the robe up over his head in one sudden motion. Raha rose to let it pass, sputtering, and Aden tossed it aside. Then he began a torturously slow descent down Raha’s body, seeking every gasp and shudder a soft touch of lips or hands might pull from him. Aden paid special mind, though, to the lines of transition, where crystal met flesh--and to flesh, despite the crystal’s enhanced sensitivity to his touch. Enough heat rose in his skin that it began to seep into the crystal, chasing away the chill. He felt Aden’s own growing hardness through the leather leggings he wore, dragging down his thigh as the man worked his way down. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d traded their usual roles, but…  _ oh _ , how he  _ craved _ it right now. For momentary consolation he finally pulled the shirt free of Aden’s arm, and clutched it triumphantly in one hand, worrying at the fabric. In a fit of need he brought it to his face, breathing in again the soft musk of his lover's skin lingering there, that delicate drying grass and late season flower smell from his work for the hortorium.

He felt Aden laugh softly as warm lips touched the jagged line of crystal that hooked in beneath the v of muscle towards his sex and drew dangerously close. Aden worked that spot until he left a mark there, spanning the thin strip of crystal, and though he could not mar it the crystal  _ felt _ like he had. Raha swore softly at the intensity of the sensation, the strange union of spoken and crystalline flesh that through shared sensation felt more  _ whole _ than usual. The inhuman senses of his transformed body felt so  _ normal _ , and it lingered as Aden moved on to settle between his legs. As Aden hooked his arms under Raha’s knees and urged them up Raha gasped, “How--”

“You’ll figure it out.” He craned his neck to look down at Aden, caught his self-satisfied smile before the man nipped at the inside of his thigh.

They could spend a few  _ hours _ exploring that, but not right now. Now Raha stood almost  _ painfully _ hard. “As much as I am enjoying this, love, you might consider-- _ ah! _ ” Raha felt hot breath on his hardness an instant before Aden ran his tongue up the underside and took the head into his mouth in one smooth motion. As he did so slick fingers gently circled Raha’s entrance, and with a moan Raha’s head dropped back to the blankets, hay crunching beneath him as he stared up at the stars. He still had enough sense-- _ barely _ \--as Aden tongued at his slit and teased him open, to wonder when he’d opened the jar, and to feel the  _ tiniest _ spark of mixed pride and frustration. Aden had gotten  _ much _ better at this since they’d been together, but that meant he’d had enough of his wits about him to  _ pay attention _ \--Raha resolved to try harder to overwhelm him next time, to get that normally quiet man whimpering and pleading and  _ shouting _ beneath him--

The mental image only made matters worse as a second finger breached him and Aden worked his way down until his nose brushed against the curls at Raha’s base. He pushed himself back up onto shaky elbows, and Aden’s ears flicked forward, tail curled  _ alluringly _ behind him--Raha noticed in this position how  _ tight _ those leggings were, the  _ scandalous _ way they cupped the man’s ass like a second skin--and he clenched his hands to resist the urge to grab Aden’s hair. Aden looked up, mismatched eyes catching his attention and holding his gaze as Aden hollowed his cheeks and drew back up.

Raha looked away first, head dropping back once more as he  _ shook _ , hips twitching with the urge to press down against that slow thrust and twist inside him or up into Aden’s mouth and managing neither. Aden set a pace that deliberately kept him off balance, quick and hard on one end and slow and gentle on the other, never one long enough to permit him a moment to think, only to gasp and writhe. Finally Raha bucked up,  _ hard _ , and Aden made a soft sound of alarm. “Sorry,” Raha grit out, “but if you keep on we won’t be able--” Aden kept on “--to--”

Aden drew off of him with a lascivious  _ pop _ , and his fingers stilled. He nuzzled against the base of Raha’s cock and murmured against his skin, “You said you wanted me to take you  _ weak _ . If you want me to stop, I will, but I’m aiming to make you see stars,  _ then _ take you and work our way back here together.”

“Oh,” Raha breathed, his hardness twitching and his muscles contracting involuntarily around Aden’s fingers. “By all means--”  _ Oh, _ he wanted that. If he must feel exhausted this whole time, let it at least be an exhaustion he’d  _ earned _ . “--but I can already see the stars from here, love.”

Aden bit him at the junction of his hip, giving a little mock-growl, and Raha yelped in surprise, then laughed. He’d  _ earned _ that. “I don’t mind,” Aden said, jerking his head towards one of Raha’s clenched hands. Then he kissed at that bite, soothed it with the soft lap of his tongue, and slowly kissed his way back up Raha’s cock to begin his tortuous work anew.

Raha stopped resisting and kept his crystal arm under him, let his spoken hand tangle in Aden’s hair. Another finger breached him, gentle and slow, and Raha’s hand twitched, brushed against Aden’s ear. The ear flicked his hand reflexively, and Raha rubbed gently at the base. The angle of Aden’s hand shifted slightly, his fingers curled, and pressed into that sweet spot inside him that had him senseless for just a moment.   


In the midst of his pleasure he tweaked Aden’s ear by accident. Aden made a quiet, reflexive little grunt, and Raha murmured an apology. He rubbed the shell of Aden’s ear gently, releasing his hold to merely stroke it when Aden pressed up again, then resumed all but massaging it with his fingertips. Aden  _ purred _ at that, eyes drifting shut as he worked Raha’s shaft with his mouth. The normally stoic man did it readily in private, so it was no surprise, but never during  _ this _ and the sound--this sweetest expression of comfort and contentment--the  _ feeling _ of that deep rumble reverberating through Aden’s body and  _ around _ him--Aden’s fingers curled again and Raha came  _ hard _ , with nary a moment to warn his lover, curling up around him to clutch at the only part of him he could reach. Aden merely purred louder despite Raha pulling him cruelly close, swallowed around him, and rode out his pleasure.

Panting, shaking, utterly  _ boneless _ , Raha found both his hands tangled in Aden’s hair, seated just behind his ears. “My apologies,” he murmured, still twitching as he came down from his high, still held gently in the delicious heat of Aden’s mouth. As soon as his hands decided to cooperate he let go, and Aden slowly pulled his fingers free first, then released Raha’s softening cock. He pulled away with eyes bright, lips swollen and face flushed, grinning lazily as he shifted to sit upright opposite Raha and caught him in a kiss, strong arms encircling him and took his unsteady weight, heartbeat held to heartbeat.

Aden bore him to the blankets,lay alongside him and held him close as the heat drained from his limbs and he began to shiver. Raha felt Aden’s own long-neglected hardness against his leg, and he murmured softly, “You haven’t….”

“You looked like you needed a moment,” Aden answered, voice rough and husky from Raha’s harsh handling during his climax. “Learned something useful.”

“Oh?”

Aden grinned. “The kojin blessing works on liquids other than water.”

Somewhere in his shocked sputter Raha managed, “What? You mean I--”

Aden burst out laughing, a lovely sound, and Raha’s upset melted away. “You didn’t give me much warning!” One of Aden’s legs shifted to gently pry his apart, settling between them, and Aden’s tail curled up over Raha’s hip, flicking playfully at his own. “Besides, it seemed like you were enjoying yourself..”

“That would be a grievous understatement.” Raha tucked his head under Aden’s chin, drawing himself fully into the circle of his lover’s arms to lay a kiss on the scar that bisected his collarbone. “I still want you inside me.” He felt Aden’s hardness twitch against him through the leather of Aden’s leggings, and he  _ ached _ for it.

“Give  _ me _ a moment,” Aden nuzzled into his hair, and brought one hand up to card through the now-loose strands at the nape of his neck, “unless you want this to be over  _ real _ fast.”

Raha laughed softly, and contented himself for a moment in seeking Aden’s warmth. He only had energy in his languid limbs for a little teasing, a kiss here, a caress there. He caressed the line of beard along Aden’s jaw once more, luxuriating in the softness of it beneath his fingers, the texture just slightly different from the rest of his hair or his fur. Soon enough his eyes began to drift shut.

Aden roused him with a kiss at the base of one ear, gently rolling him onto his back, and he came alert as he could in the last dregs of his afterglow and the weakness of the Tower’s lack of support. But knowing what was to come his body responded, that famous eagerness of their people serving him once more. He gave Aden a tired, lopsided grin. “ _ Finally _ .”

“I could just haul you back downstairs to bed,” Aden said sternly, but his smile betrayed him.

“‘Twould harm only yourself if you did so. I am sated, I merely desire more.”

Aden raised a brow at him. “ _ Sated _ . I know better than that.” His hand found Raha’s sex and skillfully stroked him back to hardness. “And I’ll go to bed hard and it won’t bother me a bit.”

With a groan Raha dramatically rolled his head to one side. “You are dreadful. And a worse tease tonight than I myself usually am.”

“Why thank you, your majesty.” Aden gave him a little mock bow and settled between his legs, which Raha saw out of the corner of his eye.

Aden’s hand left him and Raha hesitated tiredly for a moment before he resolved to prop himself up. He caught Aden undoing the laces on his leggings, watched the man peel the tight leather down and pull himself free. His cock looked  _ painfully _ hard, particularly considering how tight the pants were, and he’d stopped only far enough down to pull himself free, leaving his balls encased in the leggings. Together they shuffled a little to change their angle, and only then did Raha’s sluggish brain catch up to what he’d just seen.

“You wore nothing  _ under _ those? All day?” Raha couldn’t muster the energy for real surprise, but he did look at Aden most curiously as Aden retrieved the jar once more and slicked himself. “Should I be concerned?” he said with mock worry.

“That’s bold coming from someone who wasn’t wearing anything under his robes.” Aden hooked his arm behind one of Raha's knees and held it up just at the height before it became uncomfortable, and he felt Aden against his entrance,  _ finally _ , but merely  _ teasing _ .

“Yes but I changed into those after you hauled me off to our chambers,” Raha countered, “ _ and _ I expected to do nothing but lay about.  _ You _ worked in the gardens all day.”

“Does it bother you?”

“I lack the strength to be  _ bothered _ right now,” Raha said. “And I think… no. I know your heart, and your desires.” He racked his brain for a moment, and decided, “You did not intend for this to be sexual.”

Aden made a soft affirmative noise. “But I’m not complaining.” He pushed in,  _ slowly,  _ and Raha groaned in relief, letting his head fall back and focusing wholly on the sensation of being filled, the exquisite stretch and the weight of his lover inside him. He pulled out equally slowly, and Raha bit off a reflexive whine as Aden set a gentle pace, slow and deep.

Still sensitive from Aden's earlier ministrations this was  _ perfect _ . He felt every moment of the slow slide of the hardness inside him, not quite but  _ nearly  _ helpless to do anything about it. Raha surrendered himself to pleasure, to being at the very edge of overstimulation, and let loose with a low, throaty moan. For an instant he felt both firmly rooted and strangely outside himself, but not in the way he did with the Tower. He felt friction and heat around his own cock and an  _ overwhelming  _ desire an instant before Aden's hand closed around him. "You--"

"That alright?" Aden's voice came husky and low, the very edge of a possessive growl under it despite his obvious care.

" _ More than, _ " Raha gasped. This proved perhaps the most entertaining result of their experiments with their attunement: the same effect that permitted all the dead, unfeeling crystal in his body a template by which to more perfectly mimic physical sensation by mapping from  _ Aden's  _ fully functional body--and thus made him more sensitive to Aden's touch than that of another who might be in proximity--also provided  _ feedback _ . If Aden actively fed his aether into the bond of his attunement to the crystal some of his own senses and feelings filtered through with it. It’d been disorienting at first, but Raha quickly learned to distinguish between him _ self _ and his lover. Now it merely provided another layer of intensity, both in the subtle doubling of sensation and knowing  _ exactly _ how much pleasure his lover wrung from his body,  _ feeling _ the depth of emotion and the incredible intimacy there.   


It stole his reason from him, his last words spoken the last coherent sound out of him, traded for moans and broken attempts at Aden’s name. Heat rapidly built within him again, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Aden let go of his hardness for a moment, caught up his other leg and pressed down against him to catch his lips in a needy kiss, artless with passion. He hardly noticed when Aden’s hand traced down to his ankle, carefully guided that leg to wrap around him, but he sure as all  _ hells _ noticed when Aden shifted his angle and thrust  _ just so _ \--Aden’s once again free hand closed around him and began to work him anew. His arms gave out, but rather than collapse into blankets and hay he scrabbled for purchase against Aden, hands finally digging in on the back of his shoulders. Raha unintentionally wound up entirely off the ground, effectively  _ suspended _ , and Aden all but pinned him to find leverage again. With the weight of his lover above him,  _ inside  _ him, the immense sense of  _ fullness _ in body from his slow, deep fucking and in spirit from their bond, Raha unraveled, spilled himself between them with Aden’s name on his lips, overwhelmed.

Aden fucked him through his orgasm and Raha panted and whined as he came down, too sensitive but  _ this _ , exactly  _ this _ , was what he’d wanted. Aden’s thrusts turned harder, less controlled, and finally he stilled, came with a growl, forehead pressed hard against the crystal of Raha’s shoulder. He  _ felt _ it, gave a full-bodied shudder at the echo of pleasure and gave another weak cry.

They lay like that for a moment, heaving for breath, sweat-slicked skin cooling in the night air. Raha wrapped his shaking arms around Aden as best he could, urging him down for another breathless kiss, this one slower, less insistent. As they pulled apart Aden murmured, “I love you,” against his lips.

“Oh?” Raha’s own exhausted, worn voice surprised him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Aden grinned, showing teeth, and thrust  _ hard _ one last time. Raha cried out in surprise, on that edge again between pleasure and too much. “You cheeky  _ brat _ .”

His cry devolved into a laugh. “You would not have me any other way.”

“I’d have you any way you’d allow me,” Aden said, and kissed him breathless once more.

* * *

Raha woke in their shared bed some bells later, exhausted, slightly  _ sore _ , and sleep-addled. He had no memory of coming back down, only of Aden tending to him gently as he dozed. Now he lay draped across Aden’s chest, his lover propped up against a number of pillows with a book in the hand not curled around Raha. Aden’s tail beat a steady, contented tempo against his hip, and he reached down to catch it, stroking the fur gently. “Read to me?” Raha asked, peering up at him.

Aden opened his mouth to answer, mismatched eyes catching his gaze, then closed it abruptly. He exhaled sharply through his nose, then, finally: “You’re the one with the golden voice.” The arm wrapped around Raha shifted to thread into his hair, still loose and spilling over his shoulders.

“I caught you reading to the Scions, once, after my failures to summon you.” Raha tucked himself back into place against Aden’s chest, still gently stroking his lover’s tail. “It has stuck with me. I wish to hear you fill the room with your voice.”

Aden ran a finger down the shell of one of his ears, and Raha sighed in contentment. “Alright.” He flipped back a few pages and began.

Raha closed his eyes, nuzzling against Aden as he read aloud, hearing with one ear the reverberation through his chest and the other his voice clear, strong, and unconsciously melodious. It was different from when they’d been young, and yet the same.

Raha felt old and new at once, loved and cared for in Aden’s arms in a way he hadn’t since… since  _ ever _ . Things would be different were they faced with a crisis, had he not the leisure to remain hidden within the Tower during this ordeal, but with the luxury to remain for a while…. If it drew on too long he would fret for his people, and for what they might think, not wishing to cause them alarm. But a moment’s focus told him the Tower now ran diagnostics on those systems it had powered down entirely, and it wouldn’t be long now before he had its bolstering strength once more. He could draw on it regardless,  _ force _ it to redirect power from its task to him, but… he did not need to. He could  _ choose _ vulnerability. As Aden had chosen vulnerability with him so many moons ago.

And Raha no longer feared vulnerability. Not with the man he loved finally at his side after a hundred years of desperate hope and longing and miracles unlooked for. He caught himself purring, and Aden’s hand in his hair shifted to rub at one of his ears.


	5. Thrilling Tales of Terror and Titillation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a dark and stormy Coerthan night, howling winds whipping snow to a blizzard frenzy outside the warm confines of Dragonhead....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little AU bit of Aden/Haurchefant... or is it? In honor of All Saints' Wake
> 
> You can yell at me on twitter @AStormcalled, tumblr @dellebecque.

For a long while Aden leaned against the door of the office and watched Haurchefant at his desk. His officers were gone at this late hour, the fire burning low, and the man so focused on a report he hadn't noticed--or had given no indication at the very least--Aden's presence. Aden lingered, watching him, trying to decide how to say what he wanted to say.

It made a sick sort of sense, he supposed, better at least than  _ sweep the bastard under the rug, out of sight out of mind. _ It explained all the secret passages around the complex, darkened pathways that might allow one to creep unseen from chamber to chamber and safe from the worst of the light. It explained his late hours, his  _ diligent work ethic  _ as the soldiers called it. How many knew, he wondered. He'd only found out because….

Aden closed his eyes and shuddered at the memory of the vision. It'd been one of the most intense he'd ever had, not seen from outside but living in the flesh of one of the participants. He reached up to rub at his neck without realizing it.

"Are you enjoying the view?" Haurchefant glanced up from his reading, eyes just visible past his lashes, and dropped the report to reveal several top buttons of his plain cream shirt undone, revealing a tantalizing amount of skin. Aden remembered the vision, and disguised his uncomfortable shift as merely pushing away from the door.  


He drew close to the desk, Haurchefant following his every motion with those bedroom eyes--and Aden wondered how much hunger lie behind that gaze. "I know," he said, softly, paying respect to the secret even in their relative privacy.

Haurchefant raised a brow, and leaned forward with his elbows on the desk, threaded his fingers together. "Well, as you are here speaking to me I presume you are not immediately hostile over the fact. Your visions?"

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

Aden ran a hand over his collar unconsciously, gaze drifting down to Haurchefant's lips. "You were…  _ feeding. _ " His eyes snapped back up as those lips curled ever so slightly. "How did you come to be like this?"

"My mother," he sighed. "The source of all my gifts and woes in life. I was born this way, without many of the restrictions of her people. You have seen me in the daylight yourself, after all."

“And what I saw?” Here was the telling moment, the answer deciding his action or inaction.

“I do not kill, if that is what you are asking. Nor do I take from the unwilling.” Haurchefant settled his hands on the desk, sitting up out of his purposeful slouch. “I subsist on the food of men, but blood is far more invigorating. If you have ever wondered why my skills are wasted here so far from the frontlines,” he gave a sweeping gesture with one hand that seemed to indicate the whole of the camp, “there you have it. Sustaining myself requires far too much discretion for so open a place as the battlefield.”

Aden made a soft, low noise of affirmation, eyes drifting down to Haurchefant’s lips again. “Makes sense.” And then, in spite of himself, before thought stopped speech, “How long…?”

“Quite some time,” Haurchefant answered. “Discretion is of the utmost. Were I found out by the wrong people, I would be branded a heretic.” He folded his hands and leaned forward again. “Are you curious?”

“I am,” Aden answered before he had time to doubt himself. Adrenaline rose in him at the thought, anxious for the danger of it all. 

“Lock the door, if you would. I would rather no one discover us in the act.” 

He did so, and returned to Haurchefant carefully putting away the papers scattered across his desk. When he finished he scooted his chair back and beckoned Aden to him. “This will require a degree of intimate contact, naturally. And some individuals have a rather… intense reaction. Might I have your permission to see to your needs in such a case?”

An arm’s length away from him Aden stopped, ears shifting back. “What do you mean, intense?”

“They find it immensely pleasurable,” Haurchefant replied, with an almost anxious smile. “I normally engage in this with established lovers, as a result, but I will satisfy your curiosity and obey your wishes in that regard, whatever they may be.”

Aden considered that for a moment. He didn’t…  _ object _ to Haurchefant, now that he considered it. Quite the opposite, in fact. The thought merely hadn’t occurred to him before. At length Aden nodded. “Alright. Whatever you would normally do.”

“Splendid.” Haurchefant practically  _ beamed _ at him, and beckoned him once more. “I must confess, you have been on my mind quite often of late, and I have long hoped for this.”

Finally Aden drew close enough that Haurchefant settled his hands on Aden’s hips and guided him to sit down on his lap, back to him. Haurchefant gently swept his tail aside, and pulled him close. Aden was  _ keenly aware _ of the much larger man looming over him, the vulnerability of his position.

“Relax,” Haurchefant murmured. One hand settled on the side of his neck, fingers splaying to hold him still, and the other snaked around to embrace him. Haurchefant moved a finger up under his chin and gently nudged him to lean aside, and hot breath ghosted across the exposed arch of his neck, as if the other man were hovering there, searching. His heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline almost on the cusp of  _ unbearable _ with the need to move, to flee--as if his body knew the danger his mind ignored.

Warm lips brushed his skin, lighting delicate kisses along the line of his pulse. Finally they stopped, suckilng at his flesh, little teases of the tongue and soft nips of teeth which all felt quite good, but it wasn’t what he’d expected. When it seemed it might take a while to progress to the next stage Aden relaxed as Haurchefant had bade, pulse slowing to a manageable level.

Then incredibly sharp teeth sank into that skin worried to extra sensitivity, a pain that, of all things, went straight to his nethers. Aden made a soft sound of alarm, ears pinning back and tail lashing where it sat curled over the arm of the chair, that quickly faded into a lewd moan as Haurchefant sucked at the wound. He felt the  _ pull _ through his whole body, not merely in his blood but in the boundless wellspring of his aether. A tingling euphoria spread through him, and despite Haurchefant’s hold his head fell back against the man’s shoulder. It hurt, yes, but  _ sweetly _ , and a heat and a need for  _ friction  _ rose in him like never before. He rutted back against the elezen, unsure if he sought that friction or to communicate his need or he simply  _ could not stop himself _ . A  _ whimper _ pulled itself from his throat, such a base, needy sound he hardly recognized his own voice.

Haurchefant pulled away as Aden collapsed against him, only long enough to avoid ripping his throat open with the motion, and murmured a reassurance against his skin. His unoccupied hand trailed down Aden’s chest, over his muscular stomach, slow,  _ too slow _ , but he went at the wound again while he unlaced the leathers and another lascivious moan escaped Aden’s throat. Aden  _ shook _ as Haurchefant pushed down his smalls and freed him, hand wrapping around his hardness. The elezen paused once more, murmuring something in a soothing tone, Aden gasped a harsh breath, reached up one shaking hand to tangle in Haurchefant’s hair and press him back down.

Haurchefant chuckled softly. “My dear, I do not wish to  _ hurt _ you.” He kissed a line up Aden’s neck instead, paused at the corner of his jaw and latched on, sucking without biting again. It’d leave a  _ very _ visible mark, but Aden didn’t  _ give a shit _ at this point, too focused on the motion of Haurchefant’s hand working him and the press of Haurchefant’s growing hardness against his ass. He wanted  _ more _ , and tried to say as much but only managed a sharp cry as he came,  _ hard _ , whiting out and pressing Haurchefant even closer.

Haurchefant didn’t wait for him to finish shuddering through the aftershocks of his world-shattering orgasm, instead scooped him up and carried him to the desk, gently laid him down on his back. Aden lay there, panting, blinking back stars while Haurchefant tugged off Aden’s boots and the leggings and smalls. A drawer opened hastily, followed by the sound of a lid popping free, and something landed on the desk in a clatter. He craned his head up unsteadily, just in time to watch as Haurchefant skimmed his hands up Aden’s thighs, resting his thumbs at the junction with his hip. “I would take you,” he said, voice husky with lust, “if you will have me.”

“ _ Please _ .”

He watched as Haurchefant knelt, kissed a line up one thigh to rest his lips just over the crux at the top of his thigh, dangerously close to his sex. At the same time slick fingers gently circled his entrance, and Aden quivered in anticipation. Haurchefant glanced up at him, eyes all but glazed with lust, and Aden caught a flash of fangs before they plunged into his flesh, in time with the first finger breaching him. His head fell back against the desk with a--

* * *

“I can’t believe you have this shit,” Aden said in utter exasperation. “Has this even been published yet.” He flipped to the front of the book.

“I lacked the luxury of exhibiting  _ taste. _ ” Raha didn’t look up from his own work,but he gestured vaguely with one hand at the man who sat at the corner of his desk, leaned back into a plush chair they’d dragged in from elsewhere, booted feet propped up. “And I told you, I collected  _ everything _ . My options were somewhat limited.”

“How did all the tawdry shit survive the end of the world,” Aden grumbled, but he put the book down on the desk  _ gently _ , aware of its age and the great pains taken to preserve it.

Raha finally glanced up to catch the title. “Ah, that one. I confess it is in rather poor taste, all things considered, but I recall the writing was quite exceptional for that sort of one-gil-erotica.”

“I reckon.”

He put down his pen at that, and turn to actually  _ look _ at Aden. The man was upset, surely, as he had every right to be about a work of erotic fiction written about himself and his deceased fiance. But he held himself in an odd sort of tension, staring at a point somewhere past the toe of one of his boots, and his tail draped over the arm of the chair tapped a steady beat against it. “You liked it,” Raha said slowly. “Part of it, anyroad.”

“It’s tawdry  _ shit _ ,” Aden grumbled, but most curious did not  _ look _ at him.

“‘Tis alright, love. We are in private.” Raha rose and drew close to him, leaning his hip against the chair. Aden looked up at him then, and he saw the very faint flush to his permanently sun-kissed skin, the slight dilation to his pupils. Raha smiled softly down at him, and reached down to run his fingers along the trim, well kept beard along Aden’s jaw. “You know I will be the last person in all the worlds to judge you. And if memory serves me correctly, I believe I know  _ what _ you enjoyed. I can make it about something else, if you like.”

“Did you…?”

“Pleasure myself to it?” Raha tilted his head to one side, smile still gentle. “Perhaps. But it has been a very long time, and I cannot tell you for certain. I can tell you....” He darted down, kissed a slow line up the pulse of Aden’s throat and sucked gently with a little scrape of teeth. Aden made a sound of surprise, but he bared his throat all the same. Raha drew back, grinning wickedly. “I can bend you over my desk and drive you senseless all the same. Would you like that?”

“ _ Please _ .”


	6. Compensating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aden begins the process of learning a new combat style to compensate for his injury in the battle against Nidhogg. Compensating for the gnawing, hollow loss, loneliness, and uselessness he feels proves much more arduous task. Nothing, it seems, goes right any more.

Not two moons prior the stablehand waiting at his back in case he fell would’ve been an unnecessary and insulting accommodation. Now it was humiliating, but automatic, unspoken--he abhorred his own weakness, but the people of Ishgard, it seemed, soldiers and commonfolk at least, did everything they could to accommodate him and said nothing of it. Surely he wasn’t the first broken knight slowly recovering from a crippling injury, discovering new limitations in life. They’d seen it all before, they’d see it all again.   


Aden swung his leg over the kneeling destrier’s back, took much longer than usual settling into the saddle, figuring out where all this new gear needed to sit, adjusting to his new condition, to the fact that his tail was still held stationary and he couldn’t make a hundred subtle shifts to right himself. Finally everything was in place, his cane stowed, and with a click of his tongue Keva rose smoothly. The stablehand stepped back, and Aden gave her a nod. He wanted to thank her, to thank  _ everyone _ who helped him silently and unasked for, but to do so would acknowledge his weakness. Acknowledge  _ he could not protect them now _ .

It hadn’t gone well, the first few times. The nod would do. It said enough and let everyone involved get on pretending everything was fine and the Warrior of Light wasn’t a shattered mess.

Aden actively tried not to dwell on it as he rode out across the Steps of Faith, past soldiers turned workmen still cleaning debris and hauling materials about for the stonemasons repairing the lengthy bridge. Several of them saluted, shouted--he just picked up speed. He had enough reminders of what had transpired here carved into his body.

Keva made a pleased noise at being let loose, and Aden grimaced at the galloping gait, but the poor bird had been pent up the entire time he’d been convalescing. Aden just let him go for a moment, despite the sharp twinge of pain in his back. Riding wasn’t something the device Cid had made him could compensate for, apparently. He’d have to bring it up, because a life without riding....

He brought Keva to halt on the cliff face overlooking Whitebrim. Snow fell gently all around them, that beautiful, sound-dampening silence that covered all of Coerthas’ frozen lands driving home the fact that he was alone. But it was safer that way, especially now--not that he’d done a terribly good job at protecting  _ anyone _ up through this point. Only cleaning up and sifting through the pieces for others to put back together. Something heavy, cold, and new ached in his chest.

Looking down into the outpost he recalled vague flashes of darkness, of the rage he kept pent up boiling to the surface, a voice like his own… and a mirror crowned in shadow. Not so long ago. He’d never asked what they saw. He didn’t want to know just how much he’d unraveled then. How much less he had left of himself to lose now.

He knew the answer to that.

Grimacing, Aden let go some of the reins and clicked his tongue again. Keva was off immediately, slowly gaining speed and circling back towards Dragonhead. It was the last place on the face of the star he wanted to be, but he had an appointment to keep.

Not half a bell later Aden stood in Dragonhead’s archery range while Joye went over the operation of the gun with him one more time. Aden repeated some of the key elements back to her, and began cycling aether through the converter as she demonstrated. He’d disliked the guns of Limsa, noisy, impersonal things, and while this worked off his own aether it still seemed… too distant. If he had to kill a man he wanted to be close enough to see his eyes and hear his last words. This was too clean, the physical distance from the target too  _ permissive _ of the emotional distance that would allow justification.

But that was a thought for a world in which his physical limitations no longer hindered him. He couldn’t be a hypocrite about the accessibility of the thing. Joye obliterated her target and stepped aside for him to try. Aden fell into place where she’d been, mimicked her stance, raised the gun and took aim--

The aetherconverter at his hip  _ exploded.  _ Aden shouted, ripping off the long, heavy coat he’d worn against the chill and the converter with it, and stumbled back a few fulms until he lost his balance and fell on his ass, wincing.

“ _ Shite! _ That hasn’t happened since the early prototypes. You alright?”

Aden patted himself down, jaw set against the deep ache of concussive force all through his hip. “Just banged up, I think.”

“Well Stephanivien’ll need to make you a special converter, I think, bloody thing got more than it bargained for.” She kicked snow over the smoldering device before coming over to offer him a hand up. “If you’re still interested, that is.”

“I am.” He took her hand and the surprisingly strong lady all but hauled him up from the ground. When he stood Aden winced, staggered a step without the aid of his tail to help him balance as Cid’s device tried to compensate. “Not today,” he grit out.

“Or tomorrow, I’ll wager. They pack a wallop when they go like that.” She returned to the mess of metal and his burning coat, fussing over it. “Well I think our lesson’s over before it began. Head on back, I’ll figure out how to get this thing in so he can have a look at it.”

“Right.” Aden bit back an apology--that was something the  _ old _ him would’ve done. The him that belonged in the Waking Sands. “Let me know when….”

She waved him off. “Somebody or other’ll come by. Off with you! Get somebody to look you over. Limpin’ like that, people will talk.”

Aden grimaced, but turned and slowly made his way back to Dragonhead. In the silent snow he contemplated which would hurt worse--the ride back to the city or spending any more time than absolutely necessary in the outpost.

In the end he opted to ride back, because every ilm of Dragonhead held a different sort of  _ alone _ he couldn’t abide, cold, heavy stone or no.


	7. For King and Country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young king of the Allagan Empire seeks to claim his throne in a very different way... one involving his most beloved knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a prompt posted on the In His Garden discord.
> 
> You can yell at me on twitter @AStormcalled or tumblr @dellebecque

“Your efforts please me as always, Sir Dellebecque. You are a boon to our kingdom. Leave us.” Raha gestured dismissively to his guards and advisors, and Aden lowered his head, unwilling to meet their gaze as they left. He feared they might read something in his eyes, see the truth of why the young Allagan king sent them away. A long moment of relative silence passed before the doors opened and closed, and still Aden remained kneeling, head bowed before his liege.

Soft footsteps on crystal and the gentle swish of cloth perked his ears, signalling Raha’s descent from the throne. The hem of his robes entered Aden’s vision and left as Raha circled him. He felt his king’s gaze, assessing, and the fur on his tail stood on end. On returning to his line of vision Raha stopped, reached down with one hand to curl fingers under Aden’s chin and tilt his gaze upward. “You may look upon me, my knight.”

Aden balled his hands into fists so hard the leather of his gloves creaked. “Thank you, your majesty.”

Raha made a soft, thoughtful sound, regarding him through heavy lidded eyes. The hand beneath his chin shifted, fingers dragging through the trim line of beard along his jaw before a thumb tugged at his lower lip. “Say it.”

“_My king_.”

Raha’s ears flicked back in a pleased shudder, and he ran his thumb along the edge of Aden’s lower lip. “_Yours_,” he echoed. Aden dared to nip at the pad of his thumb, and Raha raised a brow at his boldness, grinning wickedly, before he drew away. “You may rise.” 

Aden did so, rising smoothly to parade rest, and Raha crossed behind him, trailing one hand along his breastplate and across his pauldron. “Have you completed your other task?” He felt a little tug in his armor, heard a clasp loosen.

“Yes, my king.” Another tug, and the bracer around one arm came free. “As you commanded.”

“_Exactly _ as I commanded?” The other bracer went quicker as Raha fell into a familiar rhythm, and Aden focused on remaining braced against the strength needed to loosen the straps but pliant to little nudges and touches to access them.

“To the letter, my king.” He felt the hitch in Raha’s motion mid-tug when he said it again, and allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. Aden let his tail sway, sweeping at the skirt of Raha’s robes. 

“And you came straight here to deliver your report?” Raha caught his mischievous tail and stroked it, base to tip, in retaliation.

“Yes,” he grit out, voice tight and thin as he fought not to shiver at the sensation. Raha did it again. “_My king_.”

A thoughtful hum sounded behind him as Raha toyed with the tip of his tail. Aden dug the fingers of one hand into the wrist of the other where he grasped it to stay still and not react. “And you put your armor back on rather than something lighter. Such _ dedication _ is commendable.” Raha planted a kiss on the tip of his tail before letting go and rounded to face him once more. He worked at the armor from this side now, tugging away pieces and dropping them to the floor. One clattered against crystal, and Aden stiffened, ears turning towards the door.

In short order Raha stripped the armor down to the padding, and tugged the lacings free with practiced efficiency. “Off. All of it.” He stepped back and watched as Aden obeyed, dropping the padding to the floor with the armor, then the skivvies beneath. 

Aden resumed his parade rest nude, and Raha began to circle him again, decidedly less regal than his earlier inspection, _ hunger _ glimmering in his ruby eyes. He ran his fingers down a more recent scar on Aden’s flank, one yet little explored, from there to the base of Aden’s tail, circling it with a gentle graze of nails. Aden endured without flinching, though his ears reflected a shudder when Raha stroked down his tail again, then that hand returned to rest at the base. “So _ eager _ . I’ve barely touched you and already you’re half hard.” His fingers trailed down further, _ slower_, dipping into the cleft of Aden’s ass and sliding down to circle the flared base of the toy, the only part of it peeking out. “Next time I think I should greatly enjoy _ watching _ you prepare yourself. But I confess, I barely managed to contain myself knowing you carried this weight within you, waiting for me, while you deliver your briefing.” Raha pressed gently against the base, shifting it within him, and Aden finally lost his composure, tail curling as a low, needy noise rolled up out of his throat.

“So _ eager _ ,” Raha repeated, and he played with the toy, shifted it to press _ just so _ and withdrew it slowly, pressed it back at an even more agonizing pace. Aden’s tail shakily hiked up, and he fought the urge to curl forward and present himself like a bloody _ animal_. His fingers dug in tighter where his hand wrapped around his forearm, blunt nails biting into his skin. Raha’s free hand curled around his hip, stroking a soothing counterpoint. This time when he pulled back on the shaft he continued, tugged it free and tossed it aside leaving Aden empty and wanting. Aden bit back another needy sound, trying _ desperately _ to keep up the game. Blessedly Raha’s hand returned, fingers gently testing his opening, and with great care and dreadful patience he slipped in one, two, finally _ three..._. “Still slick, even. I’ll have to thank your alchemist friend.” Aden blushed behind his already flushed cheeks. Putting in the order had been bad enough, _ letting the alchemist know they’d used it..._. Raha withdrew his hand, and Aden bit the inside of his lip.

Finally Raha completed his circle, stopping in front of Aden. He looked him up and down, reached out to run both hands down the chiseled muscle of his abdomen. “You have performed your duties to my satisfaction thusfar.” A bit of that regal air slipped over his countenance and into his voice, disguising his lust. He retrieved a band of leather from within his robes and with one hand stroked Aden to full hardness, the other securing the band around his base. It fit painfully snug, the specific pressure of it hinting at Raha’s intent, but the full extent of the game he could not guess. But Aden trusted Raha, with his life, his body, his heart, and had no doubt if the game strayed somewhere he could not abide it would stop with a word.

Raha withdrew, turned from Aden, hands working at the clasps of his robes as he returned to the throne, a layer discarded here, another there, until he wiggled out of the shorts he wore underneath it all and tossed them aside, freeing his own eager hardness. He sat down on the throne, legs spread, and beckoned Aden to him. “Come and pay me obeisance, Sir Dellebecque, with that which you have so carefully prepared for me. That which is mine.”

He fell out of parade rest and approached the throne, mounting the stairs with a deliberate slowness--the only way he could manage any grace in his movements right now. Raha sat there, all but sprawled on the massive throne of crystal and gold, watching him hungrily. When he finally stood before the throne Aden turned, all but presenting himself as he had struggled to avoid doing earlier, and lowered himself to effectively sit in Raha’s lap. The smaller man wrapped an arm around his waist, carefully guided him, and though the head of Raha’s cock slipped into him easily after his preparation and their play of moments before Aden still gasped, reaching for the arms of the throne to steady himself. Raha made a low, pleased sound almost like a purr as he fully seated himself, and they sat like that for a long moment, merely reveling in their joining, bodies adjusting to one another.

Then Aden got to work. He pulled himself off slowly, testing how far he could go, and quickly set a pace. The position was difficult, riding Raha’s dick while Raha sat on the throne, and keeping himself aligned and at a steady pace required such fine muscle control and attention that he barely needed the ring with which Raha had bound him, even when he found _ just _ such an angle. Raha’s hands roamed, traced the fine muscles of his back, played with his tail, and for a long while rested on his hips, urging him down harder and faster with little shifts in pressure. He knew when Raha drew close by the sound he made, a possessive little _ growl_, and at last Raha’s control slipped. He rose partway to meet Aden, arms wrapping around him in an intimate embrace and tail curling forward around one leg. Raha rutted into him roughly, laying hasty, needy little kisses between his shoulders. Finally he drove deep and stayed there, hips still twitching as he spilled himself inside, teeth grazing the back of Aden’s shoulder with the threat of a bite. Aden shook through his lover’s orgasm with his own denied by the pressure around his cock, legs burning with the strain of what he’d done--battle rarely involved such fine, repetitive motions--and with the strain of his own unmet desire. There was _ nothing _ more erotic than these little losses of control, when Raha failed the game and sought to _ claim _ him like this. And right now, so deep into it, he wanted little more than that--for Raha to go on, to bend him over the throne and selfishly seek his pleasure again. 

Instead Raha’s hands began to roam again, the graze of his teeth ending instead in a gentle kiss. “I think,” one hand drifted low enough that fingers splayed around his hardness without quite touching, and Aden’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, “such an outstanding show of your dedication deserves a reward.” Raha’s grip shifted away from his cock, but tightened, and the smaller man leveraged his deceptive strength and Aden’s pliance to turn him towards the throne and all but throw him over the seat, leaned across one of the arms, ass in the air. A little yelp of surprise escaped him, and his pulse quickened at the possibility that Raha was about to do _ exactly what he’d been thinking of _\--it wouldn’t be the first time, their desires were so in tune. Raha’s hand settled around his tail again, stroked along the length in a gentle, soothing manner that still sent a shudder through him. Aden willed himself to relax, to let go both of expectation and of his body’s reflex for control.

Raha’s hand left his tail, then both hands caressed his ass, drawing his cheeks apart and exposing his heated flesh to the cool air. Lips touched the skin near the base of his tail, plying a gentle kiss that turned possessive, light suction drawing the skin into Raha’s mouth with the graze of his teeth repeatedly to leave a mark there while his thumbs toyed with the already overstimulated rim of Aden’s entrance. Those lips left his skin, and Aden could not hold back a quiet, needy sound high in his throat, both for his hardness and the _ teasing_.

The first lap of a tongue at his rim, light, almost exploratory, sent a hot _ jolt _ through Aden’s body. In his surprise he gave full voice to a gasp, and Raha paused only long enough to say, “Oh, _ yes_ , I would hear your voice for this.” That wicked tongue returned again, teasing past his entrance, and Aden moaned, dropping his forehead to his forearm braced against the throne. He lost himself in that push and tug, the sometimes gentle, sometimes frantic touch against his already abused hole. It was hypnotic, too much and not enough, until at long last Raha reached around to undo the band. Raha’s hand closed around his hardness and brought him to the edge, heat not pooling in him but _ flooding _ him--and then slowed, pulling back.

“_Raha— _ ” He bit off the _ please _ , biting his own arm to keep in the sound--despite the nature of their game he was not to _ beg _, not to demean himself in such a manner.

Raha’s mouth left that most intimate kiss, and he breathed, “Say it again, love.”

Aden whined before he found the willpower to pull his mouth away from his arm, and moaned his lover’s name again, “_Raha.” _

The grip around his cock shifted, and Raha stood, leaning over him to wrap him in an embrace with his free arm. Raha’s own need pressed against him, returning to hardness, but he did not press insistently or rut against Aden, only held him, laid gentle, worshipful kisses across his skin, and worked his long-neglected hardness. Aden came hard across the seat of the throne, whited out, almost banged his head on the arm of the throne, with Raha’s name a fervent cry on his lips.

* * *

Not long after they lay curled around one another in Raha’s opulent private chambers, tails entwined, Aden’s forehead pressed to his chest. Raha carded a hand through Aden’s hair, his own loose now and spilling over his shoulders. “Thank you, love, for indulging me yet again.”

Aden’s low, rumbling purr hitched with a soft huff of a laugh. “I’m starting to think you’ve got something against that fancy chair of yours.”

“Perhaps,” Raha answered with a small laugh rolling under his voice. “Or perhaps I lament that you cannot share it with me, and wish instead for us to mark it so many times no other in the future may ever claim it so thoroughly as we.”

Aden nuzzled against him, the purr starting up again for just a second before he added, “You’re getting bent over it next time.”

“Oh? Do you have something in mind?”

“Still working on it.” Aden shifted to press himself more fully against Raha, tangling his legs up with his lover’s, listening as Raha started up his own contented purr in response.

“I look forward to it, love.”

* * *

“So, what do you think?”

She looked over the last page in hand to her companion across the table, to his empty glass and her barely touched. One of the servers stopped by with a refill, and then returned to the bar. She glanced anxiously around the Wandering Stairs, then over her shoulder at the entrance to the Pendants, as if either of the subjects of this--_ novella _, she supposed--might appear at any moment.

“It’s good.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. This was the _ wrong _ place to be reading this kind of thing. “ _ Very _ good. But I think if you publish this you’ll be getting a visit from the Warrior of Darkness, and he won’t be asking for an autograph.”

“I’ve already got that figured out,” he said excitedly, picking up the new mug. “There’s a publisher in Eulmore….”


	8. School in Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aden experiences one of the great natural phenomena of Ishgard. Right in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this for RP!Aden some time ago, but edited it for WoL!Aden.

It was by far the warmest day Aden had yet experienced in Ishgard, and he found himself drawn up to the patch on the roof where snow never took. Scaling the side of the manor from an open window was simple enough, though he took care to do it in a place not visible from the street.

The sun felt good on his skin, and the city shone beautifully, light catching little crystalline flecks in the pale stone of the towers. He wondered what someone would think if they spied him out a window, decided if they recognized him they’d simply dismiss this as strangeness. He smiled, leaning against the chimney, and closed his eyes.

_ Tunk! _ He looked up, missed whatever hit the side of the chimney but heard it hit the roof below and looked down to see--

“Fish?” He looked around, scowling, concerned someone had thrown it as an intended insult. Both ears flicked to the sides, but he saw no one, and he picked up the mysteriously misplaced creature to examine it.

It flopped out of his hands and wriggled itself right over the edge of the roof, and Aden merely watched it go, dumbfounded. That was too fresh for a fish in this cold, or on a  _ roof _ in the city. Someone  _ had _ to have thrown it. He looked around again, and this time spotted a blot on the horizon.

He stood and walked to the edge of the roof, shielding his eyes with a hand as he peered out. It moved with the wind, but surely wasn’t a cloud, dark as crows save when the light caught some brilliant sparkle, like scales.

His ears perked as they drew nearer, their shapes more definite, and he recalled a tale from his associate in the Churning Mists, of great schools of fish sailing the skies. He’d seen plenty of individuals out there, even captured samples, but so many at once seemed such a ludicrous impossibility--

“ _ Fuck! _ ” He raced back to the chimney, a fish bouncing off the back of his head as he turned, and dove around the other side of it to shelter. They thudded against it with such intensity that the chimney shook, but far more still swam past through the air on either side. This was more surreal than the air alight with aspected aether, somehow, all these little fish swimming by, scales glinting in the sun.

When it ended he stood up and stepped out from behind the chimney, only for a straggler smack him in the cheek and bob sideways in a daze before moving on. Servants began stepping out of the houses and into the streets, and one of the maids of the manor stepped out far enough to spy him up there.

“Ah, Ser Dellebecque!” she shouted up. “Since you’re already up there, mind if I pass you a broom?” Casually, like she was asking him to get something off a shelf.

He shook his head, laughing, and made his way down the pitch of the roof to take it.


	9. A Little Peck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aden gets a smooch from his favorite person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for OC kissing week 2018 but it didn't make it outside of tumblr. 
> 
> You can yell at me on twitter @AStormcalled or tumblr @dellebecque

A soft trilling of vilekin started up as afternoon drew on, a familiar and soothing chorus. Sitting in tall grass in the shade of the tallest trees on the farm made an otherwise sweltering afternoon pleasantly cool, and he felt utterly at peace.

Something rustled in the grass, and he lifted his head, tilting it slightly to determine exactly where.  _ There _ , a grasshopper, and a large one by the sound of it. He stood and made his way over, each step slow and carefully placed to cause the least disturbance. Finally he loomed over it,found that yes, it was  _ massive _ , green back with beautiful oranges on the sides, long legs drawn up. He leaned down as far as he dared, again agonizingly slow, and the grasshopper shifted slightly, preparing.

When it jumped he lunged, catching it easily, and snapped it up with a toss of his head. It was a thick, juicy bug, and the perfect light snack on a perfect afternoon--only one thing could make it better.

He stalked over to his miqo’te sitting curled up in the roots of a tree, eyes glued to one of those squishy rectangles that opened up to a bigger rectangle with squiggly lines he was so fond of. He leaned down, nuzzling at his miqo’te's hair before nipping it softly, which earned the desired reaction--one hand reached up and scratched at the feathers on his neck, and Keva trilled happily, ruffling his feathers and stalking off to look for more bugs.

“Keva, what the hells?” He looked up to see his miqo’te carding his fingers through his hair, coming away with a bit of bug gloop and part of a grasshopper leg. Keva merely chirped and ruffled his feathers.


	10. Burrs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unfortunate misadventure results in G'raha teaching Aden a rather intimate lesson he's missed in his relative isolation from other miqo'te.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can yell at me on twitter @AStormcalled or tumblr @dellebecque

When Aden returned to Saint Coinach’s Find mid-afternoon the guards made only half-spoken greetings, the engineers stopped and stared only after he’d passed. Murmurs passed through camp, and by the time they reached G’raha what was likely a glower had morphed into a killing glare, a little slouch a hunched and bestial posture. Regardless he put aside his work and made his way to the tent that was Aden’s, as everyone refused to bunk with the Warrior of Light for… reasons.

G’raha ducked inside, the little string of bells tied to the tent flap jangling. “Fuck off,” immediately greeted him, and his step faltered just inside--but not at the invective. In the middle of the tent Aden stood facing him with his shirt half raised over his head, botany tools and pack simply dropped to the ground. Fine red lines and small scores welling blood marked his skin in a dozen places. Rather than simply pop the shirt over his head Aden visibly struggled, working the fabric around his head and swearing colorfully.

“Aden,” G’raha called softly, “put it back down.”

He made a soft, exasperated huff. “It’s stuck.”

G’raha chuckled quietly, and crossed to him. “Let me help.” With another huff Aden half-turned away from him, and G’raha immediately _ stopped _ laughing when he finally saw Aden’s tail and the near-solid mat of crystalline burrs caught in it. “Shite,” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

First thing first, though, as Aden could no longer lower his arms without ripping burrs out of his hair and off the fur on his ears, as they’d hooked the shirt and the ones already on the shirt hooked his hair. He had to stand on tiptoe and reach down into the funnel made by the shirt and the awkward position Aden had to hold his arms to avoid ripping it painfully free. After several minutes G’raha realized he couldn’t work the fabric free, and with a mind to the immediate future asked, “Do you have a grooming kit?”

“You’re not shaving my godsdamned fur to get these off.” Aden’s ears shifted very slightly, as if they tried to pin back but the burrs held them in place.

“No. I meant the sort of grooming kit one of _ our _ people would use. Tail brush, all that.”

“Do you _ need _ separate stuff?” 

G’raha shook his head, unsure why he’d expected a different answer. He may have left his tribe young but he hadn’t grown up in near total isolation like Aden, so the depth of the man’s lack of knowledge of _ their own people _ sometimes caught him off guard. He’d had to teach Aden _ bunting _, for Twelve’s sake. “I’ll go fetch mine. It might help.”

On the way back he pilfered a pair of shears from a toolbox, and cut the shirt into manageable strips. “Go sit on the cot, facing the wall.” Aden did so, ridiculous with the strips of shirt hanging off his head at all angles. G’raha caught himself watching the ripple of muscle as Aden moved, and found himself _ very glad _ for Aden’s leather trousers and that the burrs had more trouble sticking to them. This whole ordeal would be less _ distracting _ than their misadventure with the morbols, at least. He retrieved a potion and a bit of clean cloth from a box Aden kept in his tent, and handed them to Aden so he could take care of the cuts--because G’raha _ knew _ he wouldn’t be able to tolerate _ that _ degree of close contact.

G’raha slowly worked the remnants of the shirt free, taking care to leave as much hair as possible, and using the trimming scissors from his kit to cut free those burrs irretrievably tangled. “What happened?”

“I was up on a clifftop looking at some of the vegetation that hasn’t fully crystallized yet, trying to get a handle on the process and how it changes the plant tissues and what mechanism keeps ‘em growing like normal plants afterward. Taking some samples. I’d scouted it earlier and it didn’t have--” he hissed as G’raha began working on his ears, “--any signs of--_ shit_\---hostiles, so I didn’t take my spear with me. Wound up jumping into a ravine to shake off a pair of gigas, and the ravine was full of crystalized cockleburrs and brambles.”

G’raha gave him a thoughtful hum, eyes glittering mischievously as he moved to Aden’s other ear. “What a fantastic headline for the papers: mighty warrior of light defeated by weeds.” Aden grumbled a little, and G’raha grinned. “If you desire a second set of eyes to keep a look out, you need only ask.” 

“I didn’t think I’d _ need _ it.” Then he huffed, his free ear flicking to the side. “And you just want to see me dive headlong into a briarpatch.”

G’raha laughed at the mental image, Aden in his now half-ruined botany gear diving off a cliff into a sea of burrs, and Aden’s freed ear flicked but then immediately perked up. “Perhaps, but I would have been right behind you!”

When he finished G’raha carefully ran his hands through Aden’s hair to check for any hidden burrs. He found one deeply buried and set his tongue between his lips as he wrested it free. “You’ll want to have someone tidy this up.”

“That bad?”

“Ah....” G’raha freed the burr and stepped back, leaning to the side to get a different angle. Aden’s hair, previously about a handspan in length and casually swept back away from his face, now stood out in a ragged mess, in some places dreadfully short. “I would make it a priority, yes.”

Aden grumbled as G’raha tapped his shoulder to get him to turn, and then sat on the cot behind him, carefully working burrs out of his tail. He had little fur to work with here, his tail rather short haired, and by the time G’raha made it halfway through the matted seeds his fingers were sore and pricked by sharp points a dozen times over. “Are you _ certain _ you won’t let me shave it?”

“_G’raha_.”

“I promise it won’t take long to grow back. And who knows, perhaps you’ll find you _ like _ it. The sight of a naked tail will startle your foes into immediate submission.” Aden growled, so he kept going, grinning. “Who knows, perhaps you’ll start a trend? I hear Rowena models her fashions from your adventurers…”

With such great body control that his tail never even twitched Aden snatched up one of the discarded pieces of his shirt, ripped a burr free, and reached behind him to shove it into G’raha’s hair. With a shout G’raha released Aden’s tail and leaned back, _ almost _ dodging, but it snagged in his fringe, dangling by a few loose strands of hair. He blew at it and the iridescent seed bobbed, glimmering in the light at the edge of his vision. “Here I am, so _ selflessly _assisting you, and you reward me with this.”

“If I hear a razor come out I’ll hold you down and put every single one of ‘em in your hair.”

G’raha chuckled, and paused long enough to stretch his hands, then got back to work with the seed dangling in his vision. It was quite beautiful, even with the red and gold strands of hair clinging to it. “...Cid finally got his interface for the tomestones working today. He’s teaching me how to use it, so I can at least be of _ some _ help when they’re going through areas yet uncleared.”

Aden made a soft, flat noise. “I’m going to start taking you with me if they keep that up.”

“‘Twould be most welcome.” G’raha smiled to himself at the thought, following behind Aden bow drawn and arrow nocked. It felt… right. Clicked neatly into the hollow in his heart where his thirst for adventure lived. “But I suspect Cid will have a thing or two to say.”

“Won’t be the first time we’ve butted heads, won’t be the last. They bring you anything interesting today?”

They chatted while G’raha finished, big things like the expedition, little things like what books Aden had coming in to the Scion’s headquarters. His smile persisted, soft, out of sight behind Aden’s back. This, too, clicked neatly into a hollow place in his heart, one only Krile had occupied thusfar. Though this was different, something much more… intimate in understanding, in friendship this close with another man, another Seeker. He finished pulling the burrs out of Aden’s tail and hesitated for a moment, frowning at the snarled and matted fur left behind. “Before I finish, this is…” How to explain? “I would like to ask your permission.”

“For what?” Aden shifted just enough to look over his shoulder, mismatched eyes seeking G’raha’s own.

G’raha lifted the brush from the grooming kit at his side, wiggling it back and forth slightly. “This is something one normally does for one’s self. Otherwise between family, or… lovers. Or very close friends, I suppose.”

Aden shrugged with one shoulder. “I can comb my own damn tail if it’s weird.”

G’raha made an indignant face, scrunching up his nose at the thought. A short, sharp bark of a laugh escaped Aden, and G’raha shook the brush at him. “_ Comb _ your tail. Gods, you _ are _ a savage.”

“Then give me the brush.” Aden held out his hand, grinning. “Or you can do it, I don’t give a damn. _ Very close friends _ sounds about right.”

With a little glower G’raha pointed the brush at him in challenge, and while still making eye contact lowered it to brush at the tip of Aden’s tail. Aden turned away, laughing softly, and settled in with his arms draped across his knees.

After several short strokes fighting with snarls G’raha made enough progress to sweep the brush in a long stroke about a handspan down Aden’s tail. A soft noise half surprise, half something else escaped Aden, and he stiffened, ears perking. G’raha stopped, brush hovering mid-air. “You see why this is considered rather intimate.” A pang of pity struck him at the thought that Aden’s adoptive mothers, who otherwise seemed quite loving from his stories, had obviously never done this for him as a child, not knowing any better. “If you wish me to stop, I will.”

A long moment of silence followed, G’raha waiting patiently--he knew by now this was merely Aden’s deep consideration, and it no longer filled him with anxiety. At length Aden ventured, “No, it’s fine. Just… surprised me.”

Brush met fur once more, and G’raha repeated that long stroke. “I confess I feel quite honored to be the first person to do this for you.” And he did. It expressed a degree of trust surpassing all else, even if Aden were largely ignorant of it.

“Thanks,” Aden muttered, voice soft and dark. “For not… for being kind. Not judging me. About,” he made a vague gesture with one hand, “all the stuff I don’t know.”

They continued in relative silence after that, G’raha working at the matted fur. Aden’s comfortable slouch deepened, and finally a contemplative hum at another long stroke broke into a low, rumbling purr. G’raha’s brush paused mid-stroke, ears perked and tail curling. He barely believed his ears, but there it was, quiet but plain as day. He continued on, smiling to himself once more and a cheery little hum welling up out of him. He’d never had a friend quite like this, someone with whom he fit together so very neatly, and there was nothing in the world he’d give it up for.


	11. Light and Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interesting discovery in the tomestones retrieved from the Crystal Tower leads to several bells worth of pleasant distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can yell at me on twitter @AStormcalled or on tumblr @dellebecque.

Rain pounded as they hauled the tarp-covered equipment between them, a thousand fingers tapping out a staccato beat on oiled canvas and metal beneath. Aden hunched slightly to keep at G’raha’s height. But for the width of the machine he could likely carry it himself, but two made the job twice as fast if also twice as miserable in the rain. Finally they reached the tent and whipped off their cloaks, then the tarp.  Beneath it sat a long, squat machine with with an array of crystal sticking up from the top. It looked for all the world like some unholy marriage between Garlean and Allagan technology--and it was. G’raha set about hooking it up to the leads to the ceruleum generator outside and going through the lengthy bootup process while Aden watched keenly, tail twitching.  The crystals across the top of the machine lit up in sequence, then above them in mid-air an image appeared, semi-transparent and full of symbols like one of the Allagan displays. “I’m afraid this won’t be particularly entertaining,” G’raha said apologetically as he pulled out a pack stuffed full of tomestones. He fitted one into the machine, and began examining the contents. 

“Beats watching my own four walls.” Aden settled down a comfortable distance back, watching the display from an angle.

“I thought you had a new book coming?” G’raha finished scrolling through the index for the tomestone and ejected it, starting a pile for schematics. He grabbed another and inserted it.

“It’s late.” Aden leaned back on his elbows, tail thumping softly against the floor in some odd sort of countertempo to the rain.

G’raha made a small, disappointed sound on his behalf and continued examining the tomestones. “Can you even  _ read _ this?”

“No,” Aden said. Then, “Well…  _ sort of _ . Some of it I can  _ understand _ , but no, I can’t  _ read _ it.”

“What a handy trick. Would that I had such a gift.”

“It ain’t worth the rest of it.” And after all he knew about Aden’s travails, he believed it.

A few minutes later G’raha stumbled across an entirely unfamiliar series of words in one of the indices, and he unconsciously leaned forward, squinting at it as if that would help him puzzle it out. He sounded out each of the syllables, and then pointed at the words. “Can you tell what that is?”

Aden’s tail stopped thumping against the floor, and after a moment he said, “No.”

“It’s a different….” He’d never tried to translate the word for the distinction between stored items on a tomestone, merely using the  _ word _ each time, and wracked his brain for an alternative before he realized he could just  _ say it _ to Aden. “ _ File type _ .”

Whatever Aden heard the word as he simply made a soft, noncommittal sound, and said, “Can you access it or is it just this list?”

“I suppose….” G’raha frowned, concerned he might be opening some sort of command to eliminate data on the tomestone, but he opened it anyroad--fortune favored the bold, after all. And indeed, it did, as the image went dark for a moment and then displayed text on a dark background, then shifted into a series of recordings of motion with a sonorous voiceover. “What?” Aden sat upright, suddenly at his shoulder as the image panned across a verdant valley around a river. G’raha’s ears perked, straining at the voice of a native speaker in a language dead for thousands of years, and asked, “Are you hearing this?”

“Oh yeah. Can you stop it? I need to--” he was halfway into his cloak already “--my notes--”

G’raha struggled for a moment to locate controls, but managed to find a  _ pause _ and did so before giving Aden a thumbs-up. The other Seeker shot out of the tent into the rain, cloak barely on him, and returned moments later with his battered field notebook, G’raha with his own, carving out a new section for pronunciation notes. They settled down, shoulder to shoulder, and started once more from the beginning as a long-dead narrator described the flora and fauna from ages past of what was now Coerthas. The moving picture went on quite a while, Aden slowly slouching and eventually leaning back on his elbows again, notebook held open on the floor and scribbling one-handed, eyes glued to the display. G’raha, too, sank into unconscious comfort, eventually leaning against Aden’s stomach with his notebook propped against his knees.

The rain slowed outside, and the sounds of the camp bedding down filtered through--but it was a  _ series _ , it turned out, and they had  _ bells _ worth of material left. 


	12. How You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of my Starlight Advent calendar! Titania commissions an unusual gift, one only a pixie could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can yell at me on twitter @AStormcalled

When Titania arrived in Lyhe Mheg, they  _ arrived _ , gown glittering brilliant and shifting with all the fiery colors of autumn, an entourage of pixies and porxies and all manner of strangeness flitting about them in a cloud. Tyr Beq rushed to receive them, hovering strategically to block An Ladd following behind. “Your majesty! To what do we owe this honor?”

“Oh, spare me that nonsense.” Titania gestured with their staff, and suddenly the three of them sat at tea, cups full of nectar and sweets made of fluff. “It has come to my attention you have had the pleasure of meeting my dear sapling.”

“I haven’t laid a  _ finger _ on him! Well, not like that.” They glanced over to An Ladd, who seemed to be busy checking beneath the teacup and saucer for something.

“Oh but I  _ want _ you to.” Titania batted their eyelashes over the rim of the cup as they took a sip. “It’s gift-giving season in my dear sapling’s homeland, and I’ve thought of just the thing. But I need  _ you _ .”

“Me?”

“I need you to craft a  _ dream _ . A shared one, for my sapling and his sweet love, my eldest and dearest sapling. He once confided in me that he always wondered what it would be like to have grown up with his dear love at his side.” Titania’s teacup clacked against their saucer as they put it down, and with a gesture a small cloud of their porxie attendants floated up hauling a wooden box between them. “Everything you need should be in here.”

Tyr Beq crossed their arms, eying Titania warily. “And what should I have them do?”

“Why, whatever they desire! Let them be children again, and let them play. It’s what you’re  _ best _ at, isn’t it?” Titania leaned forward, gesturing with one elegant, long-fingered hand. “I’ll warn you, they are  _ both _ of them iron-willed. Your enchantments that make them think they are children won’t last long, and they may wrest the dream from you between the two of them. But give them what you may.”

* * *

On the first truly cold evening of winter with air sharp as the bite of iron all of the Crystarium bedded down in quiet, still night. After one more manual check of the city’s systems via the Tower--yes, everything was fine, no, no one was out in the weather but guardsmen that Lyna had seen to--the Crystal Exarch withdrew to his private chambers, and dropped away the robes of his station along with his title. He succumbed to his love’s waiting embrace as Raha, merely Raha, both less and so much more than the Exarch. The hum of the Tower slowed with his breathing, the deep thrum of its pulse with his heartbeat, and it withdrew just enough to let his eyes grow heavy, head nestled beneath Aden’s chin.

But he opened his eyes on rolling green hills and the mother of all playgrounds, and the  _ biggest _ tree he’d  _ ever _ seen. Such a riot of colors and objects disoriented him briefly, and he turned a full circle looking for something to orient himself on. A boy stood next to him, gawping as well, just a little shorter and perhaps a little younger. For some reason it took a moment for mismatched eyes and rich red hair shot through with gold to register as  _ Aden _ , as if his mind moved sluggishly through memories--but yes, that was Aden, the most important person in the world to him. Anything else was… unimportant.

He reached over and snatched the boy’s hand. “Come on!” Aden’s slightly shorter legs struggled to keep up at first, and they wound up sliding partway down the hill on their bottoms. They tussled a bit over who tripped whom and wound up racing to see who could get up the play structure faster--G’raha running around for the stairs or Aden climbing up the slide. It shouldn’t have worked but  _ somehow _ Aden won despite G’raha taking the steps three at a time by levering himself up on the rails. “Well, you won, what do you want?”

“What?” The proud curl to Aden’s tail fell, and his ears slowly drooped. 

“You know, you won! So what--” G’raha stopped himself as he remembered--Aden hadn’t gotten to  _ be _ a kid, for--reasons. Of course he wouldn’t know that you  _ got something _ when you won, just like all that other stuff he hadn’t known that G’raha had to teach him. What that stuff was G’raha couldn’t recall at the moment, but  _ just _ like all that other stuff. “Right.” He gave a long, thoughtful nod instead, and looked around. “What about that  _ really big _ slide over there?”

They navigated their way up to the top of the waterslide and soaked themselves getting into it. G’raha hopped on first, not waiting for his more timid companion. He reached the end of the first stage and waded to the next, but Aden came barreling down the slide head-first and all but tackled him into it. They went down tail over ears in a jumble. G'raha tried to right himself and Aden laughed delightedly with seemingly little care for what part of him landed up or down, skinned knees or bumped elbows be damned. They dropped into the pool beneath like a double cannonball, and G'raha sought his vengeance by splashing Aden relentlessly--which his companion returned in kind. Eventually, breathless with laughter, they dragged themselves from the water to drop onto the bank. G’raha dropped onto his back, while Aden fell face-first, burying his head in the grass.

After a moment G’raha rolled over to look at him, the way Aden’s ears twitched and swiveled around at every little noise--crickets chirping, pixies wheeling overhead, other kids playing in the distance, and even some things G’raha couldn’t figure out. Aden’s tail swished low like he was paying close attention to something until G’raha scooted close enough to bat at it with his own. Then Aden shoved up from the ground, a look of sudden determination in his eyes as he gazed straight forward across the hills. “I’m climbin’ that.”

He was up and off in a flash, but G’raha caught up easily with his slightly longer stride--though that seemed strange for some reason. Steps wound up around the tree some distance, and when they ran out Aden began free climbing, selecting handholds in the bark without seeming to look for them. G’raha followed behind, paying careful mind to where Aden put his hands and feet, and eventually they reached the massive branches, each as broad as a tree itself. Aden went higher still, seeming to  _ grow _ a little when he wasn’t quite the right height for a climb or a leap between branches. By the time they reached the uppermost branches and Aden settled down looking out over the rolling hills, they stood of equal height.

“Back when we were exploring the Tower,” Aden’s voice sounded strange around his words, too young for the tone, and they prickled at the back of G’raha’s mind, awoke something in him, “I wondered what it would’ve been like to have a friend like you when I was little. If things would be different.”

“Of course they’d be different.” G’raha settled down next to him, not quite touching, but swung his tail over to bat at the tip of Aden’s once more. “Neither of us would’ve felt so alone.”

“We wouldn’t have listened when they told us not to do the things we wanted to do.” Aden’s tail batted his in return.

Aden stood and walked a few steps, balancing easily on the limb, tail swaying lazily. “Maybe things would’ve been better for both of us…. But I wouldn’t give up what we had back then.” He took another deliberate step and dropped off the branch.

G’raha surged up with a wordless shout, and watched from on high as Aden landed squarely in the hammock strung up below. It snapped taut and bounced him back in the air about a yalm, but held fast. He got his footing standing up in the hammock, tail twisting for balance, then leaned back to look up at G’raha. “Come on!”

“I am not quite so adept at falling, thank you!” It was a  _ dizzying _ height, and certainly one he was ill equipped to handle. G’raha looked along the branch to gauge his options, then back down to--Aden as he’d been when they first met. A young man, still fresh-faced, but a  _ man _ all the same, not a child any longer. When he looked down at himself he found his clothes had changed, his limbs longer and strong from years of archery practice--but his right hand remained free of crystal.

“I’ll catch you!”

“Well,” G’raha muttered to himself, “here goes nothing.” And he stepped off, plummeting towards the ground.

As promised Aden caught him, the hammock swaying violently beneath them. They lingered just a little too long like that, G’raha catching his breath from the fall before Aden set him down. “Even if it meant some of the things that happened to us… some of the scars we carry,” he settled his flesh and blood fingertips against Aden’s collarbone and drew his fingers down over Aden’s shirt, along the line a scar would one day mar, “had not come to pass….”

Aden caught his hand--flesh and blood, G’raha shuddered at the sensation he’d all but forgotten in that limb--and brought it up to his lips. “I like you just fine,” his breath fell hot against G’raha’s skin, and a little of the drawl from when they’d first met lingered in his voice, “just how you are.” 

G’raha jerked his hand away only to press both against Aden’s shoulders and bear him down into the hammock. It swayed furiously beneath them as he straddled Aden and stretched across him for a kiss, slow but demanding, all the pent up frustration of his twenty-something self behind it. By the time they drew apart Aden’s sun-touched skin had flushed, and he reached up to wrap his hands around G’raha’s. “I’ve always wanted you like this,” G’raha murmured. “Able to touch you with what is lost to me, able to  _ be _ touched. What a fool I was then. If only I had understood myself--” G’raha let out a yelp of surprise as a pixie descended from the heavens and tugged with all their might at his braid.

“There are  _ children  _ in here!” The pixie braced their legs against his neck and tugged harder. “ _ Augh _ , they said this would happen! They said you’d overcome the enchantments but I didn’t think you’d  _ keep playing _ \--out! Out!”

* * *

Raha opened his eyes in the soft light of the Tower at night, just in time to watch Aden’s flick open, faintly luminous in the darkness. One of Aden’s hands skimmed across his body beneath the covers, captured his crystal hand and brought it up to Aden’s lips. “Just how you are,” he repeated. His kiss sent a tingle through Raha’s arm--not quite flesh and blood, but  _ close _ .

"How _we_ are," Raha corrected, and when Aden let go of his hand he traced it down across that same scar. "Scars and all."


	13. A Heart Full of Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain room in the Crystal Tower finally sees use once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day five of my advent calendar of fic! This one was written for [Optee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optee/pseuds/Optee)'s "if I fits I sits" prompt

They spent nearly a moon in preparation, securing a passage free of obstacles, testing systems and training  volunteers on them, cleaning, and at last a final  run through before the day of what had rapidly become the most anticipated event in the cooling winter season. Finally the Crystal Tower’s doors opened to the public for an evening Aden and the Exarch entered absolutely last, lingering in the halls in case the security systems of the Tower responded. In the rear entrance they’d used so long ago the Exarch lingered,  gazing out over the amphitheater full to standing room only, the lights set upon the stage and musicians taking their places. He never thought he’d see the day when his people had such leisure, such cause to celebrate and the ability to come together without fear for what might occur while they were otherwise occupied.

A  violinist on stage raised bow to strings, coaxed forth the first note, and overwhelmed with pride and gratitude a little sound of contentment escaped him.

He stood transfixed for the first measure, until Aden returned to his side, took his hand and led him down the stairs. He was content to stand and watch, but a little more than halfway down Aden  sat on the stairs, tugged Raha down with him. He settled in between Aden’s legs, leaning against his chest, with Aden’s arms draped around him. After a moment he realized they sat at the end of the row he’d directed Aden to many years ago when they discovered the room. Raha leaned his head back against Aden’s shoulder, one ear flicking at his cheek. “You remembered,” he murmured.

“I never forgot,” Aden said, and turned to kiss the shell of his ear.

With a full heart he sat in the circle of his love’s arm and lost himself for a while in the harvest of their garden.


	14. Flinging Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone takes the job of teaching Ryne how to play in her first snow very seriously, damn the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is day six of my advent calendar of fic, and answering @standinginwait's request for snow angels!

The seasons shifted, the blazing gown of autumn shed for the bare beauty of winter, and not long after for the first time in one hundred years snow blanketed Lakeland. It came gently at first, dustings of white over grass and stone and crystal, gone by mid-morn. But as the longest night of the year approached the snow grew bolder, lingered longer. One week before what should have been Starlight in the Source a great blizzard descended upon the Crystarium. Heaps of snow piled on the glass domes of her buildings, caught in the crags and peaks of the Crystal Tower, and driving winds blew great drifts up into every windward nook and cranny. The Crystarium shut down for an entire day and night, her citizens equal parts awed and distressed as few had ever experienced such sublime ferocity in nature.

And so it fell to the Warrior of Darkness, after his lengthy time spent in frozen Coerthas, to see to those scattered far and wide, checking on families identified by the council as in need of special attention of one sort or another. Medicines delivered to the ill, meals to the elderly, all things normally seen to by those otherwise snowed in. The guard mobilized to conquer a new white menace, clearing pathways and any vital systems of snow. But by and large it remained untouched in the courtyards and common areas, great stretches of pristine snow mid-thigh on an adult mystel.

“And children play in this where you’re from?”

There was something pointedly… _adorable _about Ryne’s outfit, bundled up to her chin in a cream colored coat, a hand-knitted hat that slouched back in the same color as her ribbon, mittens with little poms on the backs of the hands. It emphasized her youth in contrast to her remarkable emotional maturity, and though the word wasn’t one Aden often used to describe anything it seemed apt.

“Of course! Why, if it stays this _cold_ we might even be able to skate on the lake,” Alphinaud’s eyes lit up at the thought. “It has been quite some time since I indulged, but I fancy myself quite the skater. I--” Alphinaud let loose an unholy scream as Alisaie pulled back the collar of his coat and dumped a handful of snow down. She doubled over laughing while he danced and shook trying to work it out the bottom, and after her initial shock Ryne joined in.

When the three of them had calmed and Alphinaud come to terms with his sister’s usual antics, Ryne asked, “What other sorts of things do people do with it?”

As she answered Alisaie counted them off on her hand, “Sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen and putting rude things on them, snow angels...”

At a sudden touch on his arm Aden looked down, found the Exarch at his side, hood up and breath visible in soft puffs of white. Aden wrapped an arm around him, tugging him close. “You’re from Ilsabard originally, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“Yes,” the Exarch answered. “Though it has been… a _very_ long time, and I left fairly young. Most of my early memories of snow are not fond ones.”

“We could make some new ones,” Aden said, squeezing him close. The Exarch returned the embrace, slinking an arm beneath Aden’s to wrap around his waist.

“Snow angels?” Ryne asked. “What are those?”

“You drop flat into the snow and wave your arms about to make a shape like wings,” Alphinaud offered. “I would demonstrate, though as the snow is rather deep here we may have some difficulty.”

“I can help with that.” Aden untangled himself from his half-embrace around the Exarch and snatched Alisaie up around her midsection, then flung her out over the snow bank to their side. She yelled a swear, but managed to right herself and landed more or less on her back, laughing as she sunk half a fulm into the snow. He followed up with Alphinaud a second later, not leaving one twin free of harassment long without paying the other in kind, and though he protested Alphinaud, too, fell into a fit of giggles as he dramatically landed and floundered in the snow. When he came to Ryne he paused, arms open and expression expectant, waiting for her permission. She nodded, and he grabbed her up and threw her out into the snow to one side of Alisaie, screaming and laughing as she went.

At first the three of them did try to make snow angels, but Alphinaud infringed upon Alisaie’s space and Ryne flung snow onto Alisaie’s face and the three of them descended into playfighting, rolling in the snow and pressing each other into it. Aden turned back to the Exarch, and with the children otherwise occupied wrapped him in his arms, darting beneath the hood for a little kiss.

“I know what you’re about,” Raha said, raising a brow at him as they parted, still within the shadow of his deep cowl. “And I’ll have you know if you do what you’re thinking about there’ll be hells to pay this evening.”

“Oh.” Aden drew back a little further, grinning. “Promise?”

“My retribution won’t be swift,” Raha purred, and even though he _knew_ what was coming he still yelled when Aden hauled him up from the ground and flung him through the air. He landed on the other side of Ryne in a puff of snow, and immediately struggled into a sitting position. 

The children stopped their fighting and looked from Aden to the Exarch in alarm. Then Ryne let out a single choking laugh, one she’d attempted to stifle, then another, and a snort before she dissolved into laughter around, “Even… even with the hood… your ears!”

When he looked back, indeed, there are the top of his head was the very  _stark _ impression of his ears in a position of alarm.


	15. A Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ear massage for day 8 of my advent calendar of fic, written for Afina!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set post-ShB but before the more explicit/fluffy content I've written. This is a time period I haven't touched on much because it's very particular to the end of the ShB sequence in Perfect.
> 
> Also partially inspired by a conversation in Exarch discord....

Though everyone in the Crystarium and then some had seen his face the Exarch yet grew uncomfortable under the gaze of others, and so he wore his hood as often as possible, seeking refuge in the darkness of it. Over the years it had become an armor of sorts, representative of both distance and nearness to the people of the First. He’d been able to cast away G’raha Tia under these robes, to all but kill his identity and his childish heart, and in the wake of his unexpected salvation he needed that distance between himself and… himself.

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Hm?” He looked up at the doorway to his study--the less private one--to find Aden in the doorway. A little smile curled his lips in spite of himself and their rather complicated situation at the moment--he was happy to see his friend regardless.

“Your hood,” Aden said, nodding his head in the Exarch’s direction. “Keeping your ears flat like that.”

“I suppose it did at first, though it has been quite long enough I’ve forgotten,” he answered. “But I am quite used to it by now, I assure you.”

Aden made a soft, flat noise at that. “You take it off in private?”

“Ah… occasionally. I prefer to keep it on.”

Another soft noise, this one discontented “The muscles haven’t atrophied being in one position all the time?”

“I… don’t know.” Thinking on it he found he truly didn’t, he’d exercised them so little. And some part of him buried deep for a long, long time recoiled at the possibility, the same part of him horrified at the thought of a miqo’te or a mystel losing their tail. Before he caught himself he snatched his hood back and forced his ears upright, then tried to wiggle them.

Aden crossed the room to him, and as he drew near lifted his hands and mimicked a rubbing motion with his thumb and forefinger. “Do you mind?”

“I assure you that won’t be necessary,” he answered, leaning back slightly. “I am quite capable of handling the situation myself.”

“But you don’t  _ have _ to,”Aden said, stopped at the corner of his desk at a respectful distance. “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me, repeatedly? You don’t  _ have _ to do it by yourself. I’m offering.”

The Exarch took a deep breath, and pushed back from his desk slightly as he nodded his assent.. Aden rounded the desk and chair to stand behind him, and the Exarch nearly quivered in anticipation for what he knew was coming.

Strong fingers gently stroked along the shell of his ear, smoothed his fur, got him used to the touch as they feebly twitched in response. These light touches felt more irritating than anything else, so unused to it was he. Aden slowly manipulated his ears into a more normal position, and then his thumbs dug in at the base with light pressure.

It  _ hurt _ , and surprised he let loose with a soft, pained sound. Aden stopped immediately, hands jerking back. “You alright?”

“I… ah, I believe you may have been on to something,” he said. It had hurt but at the same time he felt the tension in those fine muscles, the  _ promise _ of release, and after a moment he said, “Please, continue. I think it will improve with time.”

Aden’s hands returned, the backs of his fingers delicately drawing up the shell of the Exarch’s ears once again. This time it felt… better. Not the rather embarrassing way it  _ should _ , but more normal. Like a gentle caress across his skin. After a moment he returned to the base, touch soft and oh-so-gradually growing stronger. It teased the muscles back into place, slowly eased tiny knots away, and though the edge of pain remained it faded before he increased pressure. One never applied much strength around so delicate an appendage, but with such fine and well-honed control over his exertion from years of both combat and delicate work with his hands working wood and leather Aden applied exactly the right amount of force at the right time. He paused, ran the backs of his fingers up the shell of the Exarch’s’ ears, and this time it felt the way it should. A shudder passed through him, a needy little sound, and Aden’s hands stilled. The Exarch warred within himself, to beg him to continue and snatch another moment of intimacy or to maintain their distance, the friendship he so desperately feared to lose and the opportunity he dared not snatch from Aden.

While the Exarch hesitated he did it once more, slower, a little tingle of pleasure following his touch. The Exarch’s ears flicked his hands, and Aden caught them, gently rubbed the tips between his fingers, stroking with the fur. It drew on for a heartbeat, two, for a breath, and the Exarch breathed out a husky warning, “ _ Aden _ .”

His hands stilled, let go, and landed on the Exarch’s shoulders. “I know.” He felt the man’s forehead press into his hair, ears flicking his. “I know.”

Aden left as suddenly as he’d appeared, tail twitching out agitation behind him. Neither of them could have what they wanted, no more than what they had. But it felt nice to imagine, for a moment.


	16. A Winter's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aden and Haurchefant go for a ride, and Aden decides to do something for himself for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 of my advent calendar of fic, inspired by some conversation over at the Exarch discord! There will be a spicy part two as I didn't have time to include it for today...

“Hey boy, come on… there’s a good fellow.”

The stables smelled rich and warm, full of snuffles and shuffles and warks, the trudge of boots outside and the steady scrape of a muck rake. On a cold, crisp mid-morn there was hardly a better place to be. Aden finished fitting Keva’s tack and led the destrier out into the courtyard, from there to the gates before mounting up. They took the distance of the Steps of Faith at a breakneck pace, racing over that precipitous chasm in fearless joy as only a chocobo at full gallop can bring. Aden reined Keva in at the gates, just trotting through at an easy pace, passed out into the snow of Coerthas.

They only went a little ways from the gates, far enough that the sounds of the guards stationed there didn’t reach them. Keva’s breath filled his ears, but beyond that if he focused he found the gentle white noise of softly falling snow. Aden reached down to ruffle the feathers at Keva’s neck, and his ears twitched, following the heavy gait of another chocobo in the snow. He looked up, leaning forward on the pommel with a lazy grin for the other rider.

“Ah, here you are my dear.” Haurchefant pulled up alongside him, bird fluffing itself eagerly. Keva snapped for Haurchefant’s reins, but Aden leaned forward and put a hand on the bird’s beak, clicked his tongue  _ no _ . Keva so restrained and the object of his affections slightly overextended, Haurchefant leaned in to kiss Aden’s ear. It flicked wildly, and Aden looked up with a little flush darkening his permanently sun touched skin. “I trust everything is in order?”

“As it can be,” Aden answered. With that they struck out away from the gates, racing each other over long stretches of snow. In  _ theory _ it was a patrol route, but in practice they’d simply desired an excuse to see one another around all their other business. How strange it still seemed to Aden, even though he’d fallen into Haurchefant’s bed moons ago, before he’d been granted entrance to Ishgard, just how much this man wanted him, and how much Aden himself wanted to  _ be _ with him. He’d never felt quite this way about anyone before, and it was all still new and novel.

They completed the circuit and returned to Camp Dragonhead, chocobos sated in their need to run. Aden took Keva to the stables himself, looking for a certain groom he knew the bird would tolerate. When he stepped out once more a snowball met him full in the cheek, turning his head aside with the force. For a split-second Aden stood there, stunned, but a familiar cry of victory spurred him into action. He scooped up a handful of snow and quickly packed it to return fire, but while his opponent dodged he rushed in to close the distance. An instant later he had Haurchefant flat on his back in the snow, straddling him, the elezen laughing through half-hearted protests as Aden shoveled snow down the front of his chainmail.

“Mercy, mercy I beg you! At this rate you might freeze my--”

Aden stood, dusting snow off his armor, and Haurchefant rose to his elbows, smiling up at him. Anything Aden could do to draw out their encounter, to see that smile a little longer, he meant to. Because soon they’d retreat into private, and though sweet their lovemaking was bitter in a way, too, as he’d head back into the city soon after.

Perhaps… he might stay this time. A night, or three, while Tataru continued making inquiries. So long as he called her to let her know, all should be well. Perhaps he’d stay long enough to convince Haurchefant to come to the Manor for a day or three, and find a way to have the man all to himself.

Aden offered Haurchefant a hand up, and braced himself as the larger man took it. Yes, he thought, he’d clear it with Tataru via linkpearl and take a few days for himself. Just this once.


	17. Love Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Aden is recovering from injuries sustained at the Bloody Banquet, Haurchefant discovers there's one family member he'll have to win over if he wants to woo the Warrior of Light: Keva.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of Winter's Day (Winter's Night) is delayed because I've been sick as fuck the past couple days. Soon(tm!)
> 
> Consider this day 10

Cane or no, orders to rest his leg or no, Aden had one duty to which no one else could attend: caring for Keva. The bird was ornery at best, and aggressive if he thought he could get away with it. The grooms were already familiar with him, and more than happy to let Aden handle everything. That it helped soothe his restless nature was merely a bonus.

He entered to a small crowd of the stable staff murmuring in surprise, stand in an arc a few doors down from Keva’s stall. He shimmied around them against the wall to see what was going on, and stopped and stared with them.

“Hand that here.” Haurchefant stood in Keva’s stable, the large destrier’s beak clamped around the chainmail covering his forearm. “Slowly.” A young stable hand next to him obeyed, offering up a head of chysahl greens. Haurchefant took it in his free hand, smiling gently at the bird, who glared back with murder in his large, dark eyes. “Wouldn’t you prefer to trade?” He offered it up as an alternative, but the bird hardly spared it a glance.

“Grub feed,” Aden offered. The stable hand turned to face him, but Haurchefant did not. “Big ones. If you’re trying to distract him. The livelier the better.”

The stable hand immediately rushed off, and the others gathered startled out of their gawking, suddenly finding things nearby to busy themselves with. “Aren’t you meant to be resting?” Haurchefant asked, very casually for a man with his arm in a chocobo’s mouth.

“You know better.” He had to be careful with the cane on the hay-strewn floor of the stables as he approached. “He doesn’t like anybody else touching him.”

“I wanted nothing to disturb you,” Haurchefant answered, voice a little lower as Aden neared. “To see that you heal fully.”

Up close he noticed through Haurechfant’s maile a little blood spotting the padding beneath. Aden bit back his impulsive response, knowing the other man didn’t think him fragile. And even if he did, he wouldn’t be wrong right now. Aden maneuvered in front of him and dropped the cane, brought both hands up to run along the bottom of Keva’s beak before pushing two fingers in alongside Haurchefant’s arm and tugging at Keva’s beak. “That’s not yours.” The bird made an annoyed, angry  _ hrrr _ sound. “It don’t  _ belong _ to you then it don’t  _ belong  _ in your mouth. Spit it out.” Keva tilted his head to stare down at Aden, twisting Haurchefant’s arm, but no sound greater than a soft breath of surprise escaped the elezen. They glared at each other for a long moment, long enough that the stable hand returned with a bucket full of wriggling grubs. Keva didn’t seem to notice. “ _ Keva _ .” His voice lifted on the end of the name, a warning, and finally the bird unclenched his beak, immediately set about preening as if nothing had happened.

Haurchefant backed away with a small, relieved sound, though he didn’t inspect his arm or appear to be in any distress--quite the opposite, he’d been very calm about the whole ordeal. “You alright?” Aden asked, just to be sure.

“Nothing is broken,” he answered cheerily. “It could have been far worse, all things considered.”

From anyone else Aden would’ve taken that as deflection, but he knew Haurchefant meant it. He made a soft affirmative noise, smiling, and took the bucket from the stable hand, putting most of the weight on his good leg. Turning back to Keva he called softly, “Hey, big guy.” The bird paused his preening, turning one large eye on Aden, then continued. “Quit sulking and come here.”

Aden took a handful of the grubs, and Keva finally turned, daintily picking them out of Aden’s hand when offered. “I know you don’t like it out here.” He reached up and ruffled the bird’s neck feathers while it chomped down the grubs. “He’s only trying to take care of you, alright? He’s my friend. You remember him?” Keva leaned down for the bucket, snapping up a mouthful of grubs. “He’s taking care of you to help take care of me.” The chocobo quickly swallowed the grubs, and then shoved his beak into Aden’s hair, messily preening it. His large, dark eyes rolled to Haurchefant as he did so, as much of a glower as a bird could manage.


	18. Winter's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Winter's Day. Even taking time for himself, the Warrior of Light's work is never done. At least this time he's justly rewarded. **Explicit** WoLxHaurchefant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 of my advent calendar of fic! Nobody requested this, I just wanted more Aden/Haurchefant

Aden resisted valiantly, jaw set, but it was only a matter of time until he lost this war of attrition. A needy little sound escaped him at a shift in pressure, then a low, rumbling groan that  _ almost _ passed for a purr. He buried his face in the pillow, as Haurchefant’s hands drew lower, so close to his tail it twitched with every stroke. He felt boneless, tension he’d held for a long time simply  _ gone _ under the man’s hands It felt so damn  _ good _ he didn’t want the massage to stop, but since he was so close Aden contemplated for a moment telling Haurchefant aboutl--

A knock sounded on the door, and Haurchefant sighed, grip tightening in frustration for just a moment. Aden growled as Haurchefant rose from the bed. “I’ll  _ kill _ the next person who knocks on that door.”

Haurchefant chuckled softly as he passed from the bedroom to the antechamber. Aden’s ears pricked at the conversation despite his soured mood, straining to catch the particulars. About halfway through the conversation Aden decided he’d heard enough and slid off the bed, gathering up the clothing Haurchefant had divested him of and tossed aside. He was dressed and putting on the padding for his armor before Haurchefant returned.

“Oh.” He stopped in the doorway, watching Aden for a moment. Aden just met his gaze, ears in an attentive position and expression defiant.  _ That won’t be necessary _ or  _ stay and enjoy your day to yourself _ or  _ we can handle it _ \--but none of those came out of Haurchefant’s mouth. Instead he smiled warmly and said, “I apologize for the interruption, my dear. It seems we will have to pick up here later.”

* * *

_ Later _ proved to be several  _ bells _ . It was after dark when they trudged back to Camp Dragonhead, armor singed and the men and women with them covered in superficial wounds--but they’d lost no one, and seen the dragon slain. Aden followed Haurchefant back through the halls of the fort like a shadow, lingering just far enough for the elezen to open doors for him. He’d slid beneath the dragon to deal with killing blow, thrusting his spear up into its belly. His left arm to the elbow and his right nearly to the shoulder were slicked in dragon blood, the padding soaked through. So if they retreated to private in some haste, no one questioned it.

As soon as the door to Haurchefant’s quarters closed the man descended upon him, carefully unlatching Aden’s helm and pulling it free before pressing him against the door. It dropped to the ground, and Haurchefant hunched over him, one hand running down the trim line of beard along his jaw. “Do you know how badly I have wanted you like this…. With the afterglow of battle still upon you?” Haurchefant caught his lips in a ravaging kiss, so insistent a little sound of surprise escaped Aden before it broke into a lascivious moan. Normally his overeager body was a  _ nuisance _ , but caught between the haze of adrenaline and the edge of exhaustion his growing arousal was  _ beyond _ pleasurable. Haurchefant’s hands roamed, seeking the latches on his armor and opening them. Parts fell away or hung loose, as many as the other man could manage, kissing Aden all the while. He returned the favor, seeking out the laces that secured Haurchfaunt’s chainmaille so that when they parted just briefly for breath Haurchefant swept it up and off, dropping it to the floor alongside Aden’s armor.

Haurchefant captured Aden’s lips again, wrapped one arm around Aden and hauled him up. Aden still wore his boots and his gauntlets, but the breastplate pulled free as soon as Haurchefant lifted him away from the door. He wrapped his legs around Haurchefant’s waist, instinctively seeking friction as Haurchefant brought his free hand down to cup Aden's ass, sliding up around the base of Aden's tail. 

Haurchefant grinned into the kiss, and pushed through the half open door to the bedroom, struggling to keep his balance with his arms full of writhing,  _ distracted  _ miqo'te. Haurchefant backed into the bed, but didn’t  _ dare _ put Aden down with the blood soaking his arms--he was at least considerate enough to keep his hands locked behind Haurchefant’s neck rather than go wandering and smear it around. Instead he took one hand off Aden and fumbled around blindly behind himself, trying to open a drawer. There was a clattering sound as he dropped something, and he spun to pin Aden against the wall, finally drawing out of the kiss.

Aden’s chest heaved, dizzy and breathless, as Haurchefant ducked out of the circle of his arms, peeling down the padding from his armor and everything beneath. The clothing draped over his boots, and Haurchefant looked up at him from kneeling with that glittering, worshipful gaze.

“Breathtaking,” Haurchefant murmured, before he pinned Aden again with a hand at his hip and he took Aden’s hardness into his mouth all the way to the hilt in one go.

Aden’s head thunked against the wall, a low moan escaping him, and he clenched his hands into fists to resist the urge to slide his fingers into Haurchefant’s hair and just  _ fuck  _ the delicious heat of his mouth. His ears perked at the sound of something hitting the floor, but Aden was already half-gone, twitching against Haurchefant’s staying hand, so whatever it was--didn’t matter. Just the wet heat, pressure, and the fading adrenaline in his limbs. When a hand reached up to fondle his balls he made a low, appreciative purr that hitched when fingers slid back, teasing at his entrance. He tensed for a split second, but only in surprise, then relaxed as a slicked finger dipped inside. 

Despite the pin Aden supported most of his own weight in an awkward position, and by the time Haurchefant worked up to a third finger he shook both from his own nearness and from holding himself upright against the wall under this onslaught. “‘M--gonna--” Haurchefant pulled off his cock with a wet pop, lips swollen and red, those fingers left him wanting. Aden gave a needy little gasp at the sudden end of sensation, body instinctively trying to follow Haurchefant. 

The elezen stood, hurriedly working at his belt. “Did I not say I wanted to have you like this?” He merely let everything fall to the floor, and scooped Aden up, boots braced against the larger man’s shoulders and clothes still tangled around his legs. “And I  _ will _ .” Yet he paused, the head of his cock pressed against Aden’s entrance, unmoving.

“Just shut up,” Aden gasped, “and  _ fuck _ me already. If someone ain’t convinced we’re keeping a behemoth in here by the time you’re done, you aren’t going hard enough.”

Haurchefant responded with a little growl of his own,  _ hungry _ , and slid home in one long, slow slide. Aden writhed, teeth set on the very edge of overwhelmed and pleasure--but he  _ wanted _ that, the weight, the pressure, just the faintest edge of a sting. Haurchefant paused a moment, letting him adjust before drawing back, then drove in again,  _ hard _ . Aden  _ yowled _ , and Haurchefant set a punishing pace, Aden bent nearly double against the wall. He had no leverage to meet Haurchefant’s thrusts, and in desperation forgot himself, braced both bloodied hands against the wall. It was just enough, though almost every muscle in his body engaged to push back against Haurchefant, and he laughed triumphantly. Aden shifted himself just  _ so _ to change the angle, and watched with a wicked grin as Haurchefant’s eyes fluttered shut on his next thrust in almost euphoric expression. Haurchefant made another hungry noise in response, and one of the hands holding Aden up shifted to snatch up his tail, stroking down it in a maddening counterpoint. It wasn’t inherently sexual in nature, but it felt  _ good _ in a way that seemed to bypass a vital part of his conscious mind, reaching deep for instinct. He let go entirely with his other hand, leaving Aden braced under his own strength, to wrap strong fingers around Aden’s aching hardness Aden gave a positively lascivious full-throated moan, followed by gasps and pants on every thrust, voice breaking only as the motion interrupted him.

Neither of them lasted long at that breakneck pace, chasing an end in each other. Haurchefant came with a shout, driving deep and spilling himself. Aden  _ shook _ , his orgasm white-hot an instant later. His arms gave out, and Haurchefant caught him, sliding to the floor still buried inside him.

They sat in a heap for a long moment, heaving for breath, Haurchefant curled over him. Aden let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed as he groped for the strength to move, still shaking and fucked-out. “My dear.” He opened his eyes again at the mirthful tone in Haurchefant’s voice, caught the man’s gaze only to be directed upward.

There on the wall above him where two perfect red prints of the palms of his gauntlets on the wallpaper. “Shit,” he breathed, though he couldn’t muster much strength behind the word.

Haurchefant merely laughed, soft and full of brightness. “Let us see you cleaned up, my dear, before we mark anything else as ours.”


	19. Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps family life _does_ suit the Warrior of Light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 of my advent calendar of fic! This one is inspired by several suggestions.

“Yes that one over there.”

“Here you are!”

“Thank you. Would you like to…?”

Aden sat at high counter, meticulously copying his field notes into a cleaner, neater format than his sloppy short hand--something someone else might actually _ want _ to read. His ears twitched to follow the two sweet voices and the soft sounds around them across the room, but he only had eyes for his work at the moment. Still, just being in the room…

Thancred and Urianger had cited some urgent business that took them away from Eden and back to Il Mheg, which Aden hadn’t questioned. And while Ryne was quite capable of taking care of herself, and often did so, it was one thing to be left alone and another to _ be _ alone. So before the request even left Thancred’s lips Aden had said, “She can stay with us.”

She had a room in the Pendants, and run of the city, but she was yet a _ child _ and wound up spending most of that week with them. Much as he prized his privacy and every precious instant he got to spend alone with Raha, it was nice to have her around. She asked astute questions, helped without being asked, and her _ delight _ at even small things was infectious. Seeing her bloom so rapidly from a quiet, frightened child into this playful young lady warmed some dark part of his heart. It was _ healing _, to have Ryne around.

“What color do you think we should use?”

“Colors? Oh… is there a way to make it purple?”

“We can certainly try.”

There were untold strange things in the depths of the Tower, but one of the most mundane and yet _ marvelous _ was a large kitchen the likes of which Aden had never seen. Raha, however, was quite familiar with the space and the function of all the machines therein, and when he’d heard Ryne had _ never _ baked cookies before he immediately set about rectifying this tragedy. And so they chose the type, and the shape, and all the little details--something fancy like you’d find in a tea shop, not the humbler fare Aden had made with his mothers as a child. They didn’t need a third person helping, but the kitchen was _ plenty _ large for all three of them, so Aden laid his work out and took the opportunity to simply _ be _. To listen to them, to bask in the warmth of the hearth they made. If he had a family beyond his mothers, this was it.

...It was good.

“Aden?” His ears perked, and he looked up to see Ryne in an apron and her hair up in a tidy little bun beckoning while Raha, sleeves tied back and hair up to match, cleaned up a little spill. “Would you come tell me what you think of the frosting?”

He pushed away from the counter and hopped down, drew around it to stop in front of her, nearly between her and Raha. She offered up a spoon with a dab of lavender colored frosting on the end, holding it high as if she did not mean to hand it to him but rather to have him test while she held it. Aden obliged, but at the last minute Ryne’s hand slipped, and the spoon clapped against his mouth and smeared frosting over his lip. “Oh!” she shouted, clapping her other hand over her mouth--and then a little giggle escaped her. “It’s like half a mustache!” she said between parted fingers. Giggles erupted into full laughter, and while she was distracted Aden reached for the bowl, digging out a generous portion with the clean spoon resting against it. He got some from that onto his fingers, then darted in to smear it across Ryne’s chin, giving her a little frosting beard. She tried to dodge, but when he landed the frosting she just laughed harder, reached for his spoonful of it to grab some for retaliation. She went for an overhanded strike, aiming for his face, but Aden dodged--

And Raha turned just in time for Ryne’s frosting covered hand to swipe over his nose.

A sharp laugh tore itself out of her as Raha tilted his head, looking at both of them in confusion, ears swiveling. Ryne covered her mouth as she laughed again, only smearing more frosting on her own face. Aden straightened up out of his dodge, grinning, his own ears wiggling in anticipation of Raha’s reaction. “You’ve got a little something there,” Aden said, and he darted in to kiss Raha on the nose, licking the frosting off. Ryne snorted behind him, and Raha pushed him off, laughing. Before he could lick the frosting off his own lips Raha returned the favor with a sloppy, wet kiss, swiping a portion of the frosting away.

Aden turned back to Ryne, still grinning. “I don’t know, I think we need to test it some more.”

Which was exactly the opening Raha needed to smear another line of frosting across Aden's cheek.


	20. Braids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alisaie learns that Aden is missing a vital life skill and sets about rectifying the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 13 of my advent calendar of fic! This one is another request by the lovely [Optee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optee/pseuds/Optee).
> 
> You can yell at me on twitter [@AStormcalled](https://twitter.com/AStormcalled) or tumblr [@Dellebecque](https://dellebecque.tumblr.com)

“_N_ _ ever _ ? Not even once?”

Aden’s ears fluttered back but didn’t pin, and he leaned slightly away from Alisaie as she edged into his personal space. “Um. No.”

“But doesn’t one of your mothers have long hair?” She crossed her arms, leaning forward to follow him. “ _ Never _ ? I find that incredibly difficult to believe.”

Behind her Ryne put a hand to her chest, eyes far away in thought for a moment. “Not even for the Exarch? Urianger’s books make it very clear that it’s something you do for… well… um.” Her cheeks flushed. “Nevermind what I read in his books.”

“We’re fixing this,” Alisaie reached out and snatched his wrist. “Right now.”

Along the way they picked up Alphinaud, who quite cheerily joined in their march to the Pendants. A tiny little spill of dread pooled in the pit of Aden’s stomach as it did with every unfamiliar skill people seemed to think  _ should _ be common--by no means had his mothers neglected his education, quite the opposite, but his isolation left him with a wide array of mundane skills he did not  _ know _ he was missing. How to braid hair was certainly one of those. Rope, cording, all those he understood, but the thought of working with something that personal--well, there was a  _ reason _ he wore everything short and trim. It was easy. He didn’t have to judge how things  _ looked _ . And if it looked like it  _ worked _ , it was good enough.

And Ryne had a point about it being something he could do for Raha. As always she was shockingly insightful, hit on the one thing about it that really  _ mattered _ to him. It might… it might be nice. So he let Alisaie drag him to her rooms without much protest, let her steer him towards a stool while she grabbed another for Ryne and dug out her brushes.

Alisaie undid the single braid in Ryne’s hair, then gently brushed everything out for her. The girls seemed quite familiar with the process at this point, and despite her being at the very edge of adulthood and tough as nails something about seeing Alisaie in such a caring position for Ryne seemed  _ right _ . The twins had drawn her in at some point, accepted her as their own, and that pleased him. No one deserved to be alone, especially not Ryne. 

They finished, and Ryne scooted her stool within easy arm’s reach of Aden, but turned with her back more towards Alisaie. Alisaie separated the hair into three sections, explaining as she went, then made short work of braiding Ryne’s hair into one large braid. Finally she undid the whole thing, and Ryne turned to put her back towards Aden. “Now you try.”

Alisaie moved over to brush out Alphinaud’s hair, probably the gentlest he’d seen the twins with one another. All three of the kids chatted amicably while Aden separated Ryne’s hair into three sections, judging by the weight on his palm if they were even. He didn’t get it quite right, and undid the braid three times before he decided it was  _ close enough _ and then carefully went over and under. It was a simple enough braid, but something about it being  _ attached to someone’s body _ still prickled at his nerves. He didn’t particularly like being this close with someone who  _ wasn’t _ Raha, but the children… had all seen the worst of him by this point, and more, when he hadn’t been himself and half-dead from Light. Alphinaud, especially, had been there for most everything; Alisaie knew his passionate anger all too well; and Ryne… for all her youth she understood far too much, and he felt responsible for her in a way he’d never felt responsible for  _ anyone _ before. If he’d ever had siblings, he thought, they would be like these three, but Ryne in particular.

He finished, and Alisaie came over to inspect his work. Satisfied, she bade him do Alphinaud’s next, while Ryne undid the braid in Alisaie’s hair and brushed it out for her. The three of them continued talking, about what books Ryne had read, about strange things Alisaie had seen out in the desert, about Alphinaud’s political work--and little things, too,  _ silly _ things. The sorts of things kids  _ should _ be talking about. Listening to them he felt wistful and melancholy all at once.

By the time he finished Alisaie, last of all, Aden felt he more or less had this down. It wasn’t uneven, and he managed it a little faster. Ryne came over to inspect, and clapped her hands together. “Oh, it’s wonderful.” She picked up the braid and draped it over Alisaie’s shoulder so she could look it over as well. Then she turned to Aden, eyes bright with her smile. “You’ll have to tell me what the Exarch thinks when you braid his hair for him.”

_ It might not be entirely appropriate _ , but he didn’t say it. He didn’t  _ need _ to, with the way Alphinaud and Alisaie exchanged an arch look. “I will,” Aden said.

Yes, he decided, in the absence of blood siblings they’d make for fine ones indeed.


	21. Sharlayan Diversions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But what if overthinking it and bending the rules creatively is how you enjoy the game?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 14 of my advent calendar of fic! Brought to you by my weekly D&D games.

“Gods, how long are you going to  _ take?”  _ Thancred propped an elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand, staring at Aden. The Warrior of Light sat hunched over a notebook, scribbling out figures, and never once looked up at him. They sat in a back room at the Wandering Stairs now long familiar, though for this particular purpose they had met only a handful of times, and only recently. _Team building_, Alphinaud had called it. _Problem solving training,_ Alisaie had insisted. _By leaps and bounds the noblest and most worthy of pastimes,_ Urianger had claimed. _Urianger's bloody nerd game_, Thancred had clarified.  


“If one of you had simply chosen the right skills we would not be in this predicament.” Y’shtola wrapped elegant fingers around her glass and raised the drink to her lips, sipping with brows raised and her unseeing gaze pointed directly at Thancred across the table.

“Not all of us take pleasure in  _ pretending _ to do the same things we do every day.”

Urianger finished arranging his dice in an organized formation by color and type and leaned over Thancred’s shoulder, adding, “Neither hath we all the social graces and quick wit the portrayal of such a character doth necessitate.”

“Oh, be  _ honest _ ,” she chided, gesturing at Urianger with her drink, “you merely desired to avoid the chance of injuring your precious self-insert to a  _ trap _ . But now we are  _ all _ of us in those dangers at our master’s whim.”

“What’s the wall made of?” Aden asked without looking up.

“Stone,” Alphinaud answered from behind the screen so tall it nearly hid his mouth. “Seven ilms thick.”

“And the doors?” Alphinaud answered, and Aden continued writing while the argument about who should have played a thief and who was  _ really _ to blame for their current predicament continued overhead. Finally he put down his pencil, and everyone suddenly went silent as he turned the paper around and slid it over to Alphinaud. “If Y’shtola’s spell sends someone that high up into the air, the conversion of aetheric energy to force is sufficient to blow the entire front wall of the building off.”

She cheered triumphantly next to him, and Thancred pounded on the table with a fist. “Finally! Can we  _ please _ get in there and hit something now?”

“I’m sorry, that’s not how it  _ works _ .” Alphinaud sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he looked over the page of calculations.

“But you could do this in real life,” Aden countered. “If you knew a magic that did that you could use it to just tear the whole front of this building off, damn the locked door.”

Alphinaud shook his head and surreptitiously slid a note to Alisaie, who had been strangely silent throughout the entire ordeal. “This isn’t real life. Magic doesn’t work the same way as it does in our world--there is no aether, thus there are no aetheric physics.”

“Well that doesn’t make a lick of sense.” Aden leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and glared a challenge at Alphinaud. “It’s got to work somehow, so how does it work?”

With a little sigh Alphinaud looked down for a moment, clearly gathering his thoughts. “It simply  _ works _ . You aren’t meant to overthink these things--spells only do what they say they do in the books.”

Alisaie cleared her throat before Aden could respond, and with everyone’s attention announced, “Meanwhile, I return with a young lady dressed in black leathers, with a mask covering her face. I step between her and the group and say, ‘Please, let us not trouble ourselves with this task--I have hired this woman, Jax, from the local thieves guild. She will help us enter the building.’”

“Evenin’ guvnah,” Alphinaud said, in a rough little falsetto. “More’n pleased to pick yer locks and lighten your loads.”

“That’s  _ not _ how thieves cant sounds,” Thancred grumbled, still leaned on the table with one arm. “But let’s be about it. Some of us would like to get to the fight  _ before _ we have to break for the night.”

While Alphinaud rolled for the hireling to unlock the door Y'shtola leaned in towards Aden, the drink in her hand clearly beginning to work its magic by the softness of her smile, and asked quietly, "If we invite the Exarch next time do you think you could persuade him to bake tarts for us?"


	22. Dark Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fray knows the Warrior of Light's heart and mind better than even he himself does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is a belated--what day is it again?--for the advent calendar. Written mostly for me, but also a little bit for [Crystal Sexarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalsexarch/pseuds/crystalsexarch).
> 
> TW for blood, violence, dub-ish-con? (it's not really dubcon it's fully consensual it's just got some vibes that lean that way), and in general just some fucked up shit with a literal mindfuck.
> 
> You can yell at me on Twitter [@AStormalled](https://twitter.com/AStormcalled) or Tumblr [@dellebecque](https://dellebecque.tumblr.com/)

The gauntleted fingers around Aden's throat squeezed tighter, and he opened his mouth in a voiceless, choking gasp as his heels left the ground. He grabbed for the arm instinctively, trying to give himself slack, but the thumb dug in. His boots pulled away from the ground entirely and he hung there, struggling for purchase, for air, to look his assailant in the eye.

" _ Pathetic.  _ You can do better. You  _ will _ do better." That voice so like his own drew low, rumbling in a register close to a growl. Spots crowded the edge of Aden's vision, lungs burning and limbs shaking from lack of air. "He will come for you again, and he will break you, but you will  _ learn to endure  _ or die trying!"

Aden finally got leverage, shoulders aching from the strain of holding himself up, and swung both feet into his assailant’s chest. They both went sprawling, Aden tail over ears when the grip around his throat loosened. He righted himself mid-air and landed on hands and feet, and scrambled for the massive sword that’d fallen loose of the lashings on his enemy’s back in the fall. The figure in black plate kipped up none the worse for wear, and met him grasping for the hilt at the same time.

Aden’s hands closed over it first, then the black gauntleted fingers around his own wrist. His opponent twisted, trying to force him to let get, but Aden merely set his teeth against the pain, snarling at the dark helm the man wore. He grabbed the hilt with his other hand, pressed forward--and brought it up into his adversary’s chin.

The man’s teeth clacked audibly and he staggered back, allowing Aden the room to take up a stance with the sword. It was still somewhat unfamiliar, not as  _ right _ in his hands as a spear, but he knew enough to manage, and the thought of beating this  _ thing _ to a pulp with his own weapon proved too tempting. Aden lunged.

One black gauntleted hand shot out to the side, a blade of ice crystallized from the air into his hand, and he  _ casually _ swung it up to meet Aden’s blow. “There’s your fire. Your  _ rage _ . You’re going to need them.” He threw Aden off and followed through with a swing that Aden twisted around, and just as nimbly dodged Aden’s response.

The Echo beat no warning against this foe, leaving Aden entirely to his own skill--which was not so great with the massive sword. It was huge,  _ unwieldy _ and slow when he was accustomed to swift, powerful precision. His shoulders ached and his arms burned each time he met a blow, tail curling and hips bracing against the weight not just of Fray’s strikes but  _ his own sword _ . In each blow he felt the moment when Fray would overcome him, and he rolled the blade away or gave ground rather than be battered aside.

“Why am I here,  _ Aden _ ,” Fray  _ purred _ his name lovingly, “if not to test you?” this time he broke Aden’s guard and landed a bruising blow against his ribs. “If not to push you further?”

“How in the  _ hells _ should I know?” This time when Fray caught his strike Aden put his whole body into it, risking overbalance--but it held him at bay longer. They strained the blade’s width apart, eerie eyes gazing out of the black helm at him.

“ _ You _ called  _ me _ here.” Fray leaned in, effortlessly applying more pressure--there it was, the moment in which Aden  _ knew _ what was about to happen-- “What do you  _ want _ ?”

Aden threw his weight back rather than let Fray break his guard, but it merely followed through, bringing the sword up in a swing that cracked his armor with incredible strength. He fell back into a defensive stance, wincing.

Fray brought up his sword and braced it against one shoulder, gazing down at Aden out of that black helm. “You don’t  _ want _ to win. And you do. You know you must; you’re afraid; you’re….” The helm tilted, pupils widening in mismatched eyes. “You’re lonely.” The word sounded alien in that voice so like his own, and Aden flinched, ears flicking back. “And you can’t reach out because of our bargain. Even if we could, there’s no one….” Fray looked away, eyes closing, and a heavy breath visibly moved his shoulders. 

Aden shot up out of his defensive stance, ribs screaming with pain from the last blow, and cracked his sword across Fray from shoulder to hip with all the force of a jump. Fray all but toppled over, skidding across the ground, and Aden followed with another blow that cracked across the faceplate of his helm. It snapped in half along the line of his blade and fell away, revealing that perfect mirror of himself beneath, blood oozing from a split lip. “I don’t want  _ shit _ from you, you puffed up  _ fever dream _ ! Take your  _ lonely _ and fucking sh--

Fray swept a leg out and took Aden’s from beneath him, quick as lightning--quick as he himself. Aden twisted in the fall to get his feet under him again and move, but Fray pounced and bore him down, knocking the breath from him. His ribs screamed pain again, but it gave him focus. “Is this  _ truly _ it?” Fray snapped the latches on his armor and ripped the back away, laughing. “Such a fucking  _ simple _ creature we are. How would the world react if they knew our baser urges?”

“I don’t--” Gauntleted fingers knotted in his hair and pressed his face into the ground hard enough to cut him off.

Above him Fray chuckled, free hand seeking more catches and straps on his armor. “You can’t lie to me, heart of my heart. We--”

Aden gained the leverage to buck him off, and half his armor stayed as he swept his elbow into Fray’s temple. His head jerked to the side with the motion, ears shuddering back and mismatched eyes fluttering shut in what almost looked like  _ pleasure _ . With a snarl Aden drove his knee into the center of the armored chest, converting force like he would for a jump, and it caved beneath the blow--though with only his greaves and gauntlets on at this point the shock reverberated up through  _ Aden _ , too, rattling him to his teeth. “I don’t want a  _ damn thing _ from you!” A sound half pain half something  _ lewd _ escaped Fray, and Aden slugged him for good measure, gauntlet splitting open his lip on the other side. His hand tingled with the force of the blow, something delightfully  _ satisfying _ about that resistance up his arm.

His own bloody grin leered up at him, mismatched eyes feverish “Felt good, did it? You always have enjoyed  _ beating the shit _ out of yourself. What if I returned the favor for once?”

Bright pain exploded through his skull when Fray’s forehead cracked against the bridge of his nose, and Aden hooked his hand into that cracked armor instinctively to keep his position. While he reeled Fray broke his hold and bore him back to the ground, straddled him and pinned his hands to his sides. Before his vision cleared he heard latches clicking and leather sliding out of clasps. Blood oozed down the back of his throat, thick and warm, and he blinked away spots to find Fray ilms away, grinning madly, breastplate cast aside. “We like that. We like that  _ much  _ more than we should. But,  _ hm _ , do we taste the same?” Split lips pressed against his and Aden grimaced. Teeth clashed, and a familiar tongue traced along his lips from the wrong side. With all the blood clotting his nose he couldn’t  _ breath _ , and inevitably gasped for breath. Blood slipped in, then that tongue, and a little sound of distress escaped--

He kissed himself exactly the way he wanted to be kissed--tentative, wary, the moment of seeking permission; then claiming,  _ passionate _ , bruising hard. Aden remembered for a moment perpetual chill, warm hands, a body larger than his-- _ the last time another person had touched him intimately _ \--the missing weight of a ring against his chest--for just a second he went limp and pliant, a pathetic little sob escaping him. He  _ did _ want this, he wanted it so  _ fucking badly _ \--but he couldn’t--

Aden bit down, but Fray withdrew before he could do any real damage. He bucked with his whole body, ribs protesting once again, and managed to dislodge Fray just enough to roll atop him. “You  _ bastard _ ,” he snarled, and when Fray lunged at him Aden grabbed his fists, metal screaming against metal. “You know me? You know I don’t  _ give a fuck _ about this shit.”

“No,” Fray laughed. “No, we don’t. The tedious fucking’s just a means to an end--it’s the  _ intimacy _ you crave. Pleasure you’ll take or leave, but  _ touch--at the center of someone’s world--being cared for _ \--”

Aden let go long enough to grip Fray by the throat, squeezing viciously. “Shut the  _ fuck _ up!”

“ _ And pain _ ,” Fray choked out, voice a strained hiss. “You’ve always liked it but this--this is different, isn’t it? Fighting’s always been what gets us going, where our  _ lust _ lies. This is something else. This is--” A wheezing laugh broke through before Fray stopped and stilled. Aden let go, heaving for breath--he hadn’t killed him, he knew he  _ couldn’t _ , but maybe he’d  _ shut up _ .

Aden stood, wobbling, and kicked Fray in the ribs for good measure. He wiped at the blood on his lips--Fray’s blood--his own blood--and staggered away. Let the bloody thing  _ stew _ for a while, and  _ think _ about it next time he tri--

_ Weight _ slammed into him from behind, bore him to the ground. Aden’s head bounced off the ground, he saw stars. “ _ All _ our wires are crossed now, aren’t they?  _ Every last one _ . We should have known our bargain would  _ screw you up _ like this. But  _ he _ wasn’t on our horizon.” Something cold and hard slammed through his right shoulder, and Aden cried out as it pinned him to the ground. It  _ ached _ , but it missed bone and sinew, went clean through muscle--and it was so  _ incredibly _ cold he went numb right away. “You think you  _ deserve _ this. The pain. That’s not new--it’s always been there, hasn’t it?” Hands--without gauntlets now--wriggled under him, tugging at the fastenings on his trousers. “Niggling at the back of your mind. Worse after--” Aden didn’t hear the name, but felt it under his fingers, carved in stone that wasn’t there. “And that  _ shames _ you to like it as much as it drives you to. Pain is penance--the shame is the  _ pleasure _ . But you seek it all the same, to suffer, to  _ feel _ .” 

“How in the  _ hells _ ,” Aden gasped, “d’you look and sound so much like me and  _ like the sound of your own voice that damn much? _ ”

Fray chuckled, began tugging his leathers and his smalls down. “I am the story you are telling yourself in your head, every moment of the day. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. To  _ feel _ ,” a calloused palm ghosted over the exposed curve of his ass and Aden shuddered, swallowed a  _ needy _ sound when the caress continued. How long--how  _ long _ it had been--”You think you can’t have what you want without suffering for it. The pain is threefold. If you pay the price in advance, on your own terms, then someone else won’t pay it later. Is that right?” Fray leaned across him, leather-clad hardness pressing between his cheeks, and gently ran a hand up into Aden’s hair, bloody lips and warmth breath a whisper at the nape of his neck. “Perhaps then--perhaps then--ah, but the  _ bargain _ . You can’t feel it any more, but you can  _ crave _ the things that come with it--the intimacy--and the physical things. The tedious fucking. You can  _ know _ it should feel  _ right _ even without love in your heart any more.” Fray planted a gentle kiss, worrying his skin to even greater sensitivity, right between his shoulder blades. One hand stroked his tail, base to tip, while the other twisted that shard of ice through his shoulder. Aden cried out again, in-- _ everything _ . It was everything all at once, and his hands balled into fists, body straining not to shake. Gods but it  _ was _ him, wasn’t it, the deepest, darkest part of him--the part that knew passion of all kinds. And it knew every ilm of his body as it knew every ilm of his heart.

He whimpered when those calloused hands--his own hands, but he tried not to think about it, it  _ broke the illusion _ \--left him, and Fray leaned back. One hand returned to his ass, kneading at the base of his tail and spreading his cheeks, while the other reached between his legs to drag fingers up the inside of his thigh, to trail over his balls and up to his entrance. “That’s why you’ve let him get into your head. Easier to let this monster pull an equally monstrous beast out of you, rise to his challenge, to use  _ that _ to feel alive than to pursue hands that will heal you of these wounds. There’s intimacy in the look in his eyes when his sword meets your spear--not the intimacy you want, but it’s  _ there _ , the intimacy of fighting for your life and to take his. It’s not locked away. We didn’t bury it together in the darkest part of the woods.” 

Fingers pressed against him, not hard enough to breach but  _ a promise _ , and Aden  _ whined _ . “Will you--just-- _ shut up _ ? That’s the  _ last _ thing I wanna think about when I’m….”

“Better a dire foe who knows the depths of your soul than a friend or a lover,” Fray murmured, voice gentle and dark. “You do not fear to lose the foe--in fact you seek it. It’s inevitable. But you will not risk the other, not again. And neglect the flesh for all but pain, but penance... . What a martyr you are, truly. Bleed for people who bleed you dry.” The first hint of slipping through, and Aden clenched his teeth, pressed his forehead into the dirt, ready-- _ gods _ , was he  _ ready _ . “But it’s not enough. It’ll  _ never _ be enough. It’s not what you really want. That eager smile, that handsome, strong man who catered to your whims or took you at his--who gave you all his heart. You know you’ll never find another like him, even if our bargain hadn’t stolen the ability to reciprocate from you. So now you only have  _ me _ .”  _ Finally _ , finally a finger breached him, and it  _ burned _ a little, dry, but it’d been so  _ godsdamned long-- _ ”Us.” A sob tore itself out of Aden’s throat. “ _ Yourself _ .”

Fray pulled away abruptly, stood, leaving him bereft of touch and warmth. “I won’t give it to you. You know what you must do.”

Aden woke in the dark in a yurt in Mol Iloh, still sore a whole three suns after his last battle with Zenos, aching as always from his old injuries, rutting softly into his cot and  _ hard as hells _ . He wrapped his arms around his pillow and buried his face in it so as not to wake Lyse across the yurt, and wept for the better part of half a bell.


	23. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aden makes a distraction of himself, and winds up in a great deal of trouble of the best kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very explicit, written for a prompt that involves fucking over a desk. It's a D/s scene but not extreme by any means. This is set shortly after Autumn in Lakeland, an earlier chapter in this collection.
> 
> I didn't edit this because it's midnight thirty and I'm tired.
> 
> You can yell at me on Twitter [@AStormcalled](https://twitter.com/AStormcalled) or Tumblr [@dellebecque](https://dellebecque.tumblr.com/)

' _ What _ are you  _ doing?" _

After the Tower finished running diagnostics and restored power to all systems the Exarch spent several days feeling off. He even caught the edge of a cold, but the Tower kicked in and eliminated the threat. Aden stayed with him the whole time, doting on him at every opportunity. It was a strange time, almost surreal, particularly since Aden was… not like this, most of the time. Caring, yes, but rarely so focused or put together about it. By no means were his deeds particularly  _ sophisticated _ , there were no grand gestures, but a hundred little things that displayed he’d thought well ahead about Raha’s needs.

"You've been complaining about feeling achy." Aden scooted a little further under Raha's desk, wiggling into the tight space and curling up with Raha's feet propped up in his lap. He undid Raha's sandals while looking up at him, smiling.

That gave him some idea of what Aden meant to do, at least. Sure enough, with his sandals out of the way Aden's fingers dug in, gentle but firm, working out aches he didn't know he had until recently. At first it simply felt nice, but by the time Aden had worked his way up to his calf Raha found himself hanging on the anticipation of fingers digging in, the slow, methodical circles that eased pain from his flesh into a looseness and lassitude. His ears fluttered, tail curling beneath his robes, and as Aden's hand skimmed up the back of his calf following the massage he dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair with a little half-swallowed sound of pleasure. 

"You," Raha said, scarlet eyes gazing down from hooded lashes, "are a distraction."

Aden merely kissed the inside of his knee, meeting his gaze with a soft expression, and started on the other leg.

Raha sighed and resigned himself to accomplish nothing. Instead he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, focusing on the almost rhythmic tug and push of Aden's fingers, the sweet friction of skin on skin. He felt cared for in the way he had during his convalescence, this gentle tending that seemed unreal. In truth he felt he did not deserve it, but he kept always in his mind Aden's words to him in the garden what seemed like ages ago. He could be selfish if Aden  _ wanted _ him to be selfish. He could  _ take _ because Aden  _ freely offered.  _ And he could let himself have what he had fantasized all these long years about giving his love. After all, there were still so similar after all these years, and why should he be surprised he enjoyed what he knew Aden craved?

This time when Aden reached his knee he continued on, and Raha heard fabric rustle, felt it settle into place as Aden hiked his robes up. Fingers skimmed the skin of his thigh before digging in, and Raha made a soft sound of appreciation, ears going totally lax. When Aden's hands left his skin he followed up with a little sound of disappointment, and he felt Aden's short, breathy laugh against his skin as strong hands gripped his hips and pulled him forward to sit on the very edge of the chair. He reclined in that position, ears perking as Aden's hands returned by way of skimming across the snug fabric covering his upper thighs, twisting around his leg to trail down the back of his thighs where cloth gave way to skin. Then they dug in once again, easing out the tension he'd lived with for a hundred years or more.

Inevitably Aden’s fingers pushed cloth up again, working further and further up his thighs and towards… Raha’s cock twitched, slowly hardening, and he exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to control himself. This wasn’t that sort of  _ massage _ . 

Suddenly he felt the heat of warm breath on him through fabric, Aden’s hands shifting to one for each side, still kneading at muscle and gently but  _ insistently _ stroking up. Lips closed around the bulge in his shorts, sucking and laving at him through the fabric. Raha slouched, a surprised, “ _ Ah! _ ” escaping him. He opened his eyes and craned his head to look down at Aden, ears forward in the manner of one who is fixated on some task. With their bond and its proximity his body remembered the eagerness of their people and his youth. Aden pressed himself forward, slowly moving along Raha’s growing length with the fabric yet between them, the weight of him half in Raha’s lap its own delicious pressure. “You,” he breathed, “need not…”

Aden pulled back just far enough to look up at him, slitted pupils wide in his mismatched eyes, again the look of a man transfixed. “Not up for it?” His voice held no husky want or disappointment--it was a serious question, not a tease as such words might be from another lover. Raha knew well by now how to mark his desire and how to arouse it, and that he rarely took initiative like this--but he worried all the same, knowing now the darker corners of his heart. It seemed a waste to throw such an opportunity away.

“ _ Always _ .” Raha swallowed thickly. “But I wanted to be certain you did as well.”

In response Aden held eye contact, hands sliding up to Raha’s waistband. He tugged down, and Raha raised his hips just enough for the fabric to pass. When his cock sprang free he gasped in relief, only for his gasp to become a full-throated moan as Aden’s lips closed over his head. His robes fell on one side, and Aden spared a hand for a moment to more securely push them aside.

Aden took his time, slowly working his way down, moving as if he meant to learn the shape of him with his mouth, fingers still kneading at his thighs. Raha sat frozen in place, torn between leaning forward and digging his fingers into Aden’s hair or relaxing back and simply letting it happen. He shook, wrapped in that divine wet heat, the drag of Aden’s lips electric, bit his lip to stifle a dozen needy sounds into whimpers. Finally Aden nuzzled into the tuft of hair at his base and  _ purred _ .

It was such a  _ satisfied _ sound, pulled at some instinctive cord in his chest. At the same time feeling that rumble through Aden’s throat and mouth as he worked Raha’s cock was  _ incredible _ . Raha threw his head back and swore, voice fading into a long, low moan. He clenched at the arms of the chair, wood creaking beneath his crystal hand. He couldn’t process how this made him feel, not the first time Aden had done it or now, how it cut to his very core in so many ways and his confusion and  _ wonder _ at it. It drove him near senseless, and he moaned Aden's name, voice breaking.

A knock sounded at the door, and Raha jerked upright. Aden made a little sound of discomfort, widening his jaw to avoid more than the slightest scrape of his small fangs. " _ My Lord? _ "

He started to speak and swallowed his words at the pull and drag of Aden backing off. Almost instinctively he settled his hands onto Aden’s head, holding him in place. Then he cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“ _ Thancred is here to see you. Shall I let him in? _ ”

He breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Lyna or someone possibly even  _ worse _ about to interrupt. Raha threaded his fingers through Aden’s hair and called back, “Just a moment!” He looked down at the lovely man between his legs, gorgeous green and amber eyes cast up at him expectantly and lips red and wet stretched around his cock. “Do you trust me?” he murmured.

Aden made a soft affirmative noise, and Raha ran his fingers through Aden’s hair in a reassuring caress. “Then keep quiet, and don’t stop.” One hand went to the top of Aden’s head, and he scooted his chair as close to the desk as it would go. Aden curled back into the space beneath, brushing the edges with his arms, his feet, his tail. He pinned his ears to avoid catching them on the desk, and Raha’s hand protected him from bumping his head. With his other hand Raha arranged his robes to be out of the way and not visible, then he picked up the pen on his desk and moved it to look as if he had laid it down rather than dropped it. “Come in,” he called.

The door opened.

* * *

And Aden took a deep breath through his nose in the dark, cramped space beneath the desk, one full of the scent of his lover--cold crystal, ink and paper, tea and herbed soaps, and this close the heady musk of his lust. It was different for their people, not like the sex smells of hyur and elezen, but not sharp and pungent like a beast. It just-- _ did _ things to you, made a certain mindset easier if you were already inclined. He rarely craved his, but seeing Raha weak as he’d been in the days before lit a fire in him for intimacy, and tending to him during his convalescence filled him with a need of a different kind--to care, and to serve. He knew Raha’s appetite, and the moment he’d seen his cock twitch beneath his shorts and caught a whiff of that scent he’d set his mind to easing  _ all _ his troubles. But he hadn’t quite expected to get shoved beneath a desk with Raha’s dick in his mouth while the Crystal Exarch chatted with Thancred.

At first he remained still and listened, carefully curling his tail behind him. But he found it hard to concentrate, to follow the conversation so focused on remaining still and with his jaw aching wide. Despite the fact that he wasn’t truly  _ confined _ down here he couldn’t move without making a noise, the wood too close to avoid bumping into, and so he was  _ effectively _ bound in place. Eventually his muscles began to protest the awkward position, and he tested his boundaries. Aden found that if he leaned forward, swallowing more of Raha’s cock, he could rest a little of his weight in the man’s lap and uncurl his back slightly. He did so, quietly nuzzling at Raha’s stomach. Raha’s hand slid from the top of his head to the back, crystal slightly cool and firm as he pressed Aden to him.

The hard weight in his mouth began to soften, and Aden panicked--he didn’t want to do this all over again. He began to work at Raha’s shaft with his tongue, with changes in pressure, and sure enough he hardened again. Crystal fingers tightened in his hair, and Aden risked a little movement of his head, just as much as he’d used to reseat himself. He drew back only a couple of ilms, then pressed himself in again, setting a slow, steady pace.

He closed his eyes, and in the dark beneath the desk, unable to move more than that short space back and forth, he felt… restrained, without restraints. It put him in mind of some of their games, the ones where they were so careful to set rules before one or both lost themselves. He’d wanted to care for Raha, to  _ serve _ in a way, and now he found himself reduced  _ merely _ to that. Just this slight movement, the twinge in his back and his limbs, the hard weight in his mouth, salty precum on his tongue, the ache in his jaw, the smell of his lover filling his lungs, and the din of warm voices overhead. They stopped making sense, only reminded him of the first command,  _ keep quiet _ . If he made a noise, the voices would stop, and the game would be lost.

If he meant to  _ serve _ he needed to do  _ more _ , and Aden pushed for more, buried his nose in Raha’s skin to bottom out, then  _ swallowed _ around him. Raha’s hand tightened in his hair again, holding him like that, and he barely held back a lusty noise, tail twitching beneath the desk. Raha  _ liked _ that, then, so he pushed further, angling his head slightly until he wrapped his lips around Raha’s base, took all his lover had to give him. He wanted…  _ more _ , wanted more than he could probably handle, but this was good. This would do. He drew back as far as he dared and set that slow pace again, savoring every ilm. The hand at the back of his head trailed up to stroke at one of his ears; gentle praise. Aden  _ almost _ purred. Almost.

Time hadn’t quite lost meaning, only close, and the voices continued for a  _ long _ time, so long Aden’s jaw felt a little loose and he couldn’t quite keep from drooling just a little around the cock in his mouth. Finally one of the voices overhead grew faint. A door opened, closed.

And then Raha scooted back, grabbed him by the shoulders of his shirt and  _ dragged _ him from beneath the desk. Aden followed, eager to regain what he’d lost. Raha returned to the edge of the seat, and Aden set upon him once more, taking Raha totally into his mouth in one smooth motion. “You may  _ speak _ again,” Raha growled. Aden didn’t speak, but he moaned once around Raha’s cock. Hands trailed up from his shoulders, one gripping the back of his head again and one rubbing at an ear, and he  _ purred _ again under the twin stimulus of such demanding desire and tender touch. Raha’s hips twitched, thrusting shallowly against him, seeking more distance that simply  _ wasn’t there _ but Aden continued through it until Raha buried himself in his throat, came hard with a rough, possessive growl rumbling low in his chest, Aden swallowing rapidly to keep up.

Raha remained there as he finished, gasping, hands suddenly gentle. They trailed down to Aden’s cheeks, slid along the trim line of beard on his jaw trailing the soothing tingle of healing magic. Aden made a soft, pleased sound, and rested his head against Raha’s thigh while the cock in his mouth twitched out the very last throes of pleasure. “Aden?” He made a little sound of acknowledgement, casting his gaze up. “Are you alright?” Aden wiggled his ears a certain way in response, one of their signals, and one his body remembered when his mind was this muzzy with need. “You can let go.” He made a soft sound of denial, and the cock in his mouth twitched at the hum even as it softened. 

“Tell me what you want.”

Aden’s ears perked and he immediately reacted, backing off Raha’s sex. That wasn’t sweet Raha’s voice; that was the commanding tone of a man he had  _ chosen _ to give himself to. He pulled back until he could look up, kneeling, hands still gripping Raha’s thighs. Raha’s fingers trailed gentle magic against his skin, but his bearing was straight-backed, his gaze firm. 

It took a couple of tries, his jaw loose, but finally Aden slurred, “Fuck me like that,” voice low and husky. “Please.”

Raha’s spoken hand trailed up across his cheek. “You want me to come inside you again?”

“Please.”

“It won’t be quick.”

“ _ Please _ .”

Raha helped him to his feet and Aden leaned against the desk, legs shaking from the prolonged half-kneeling position, while Raha swept it clean of papers and books, heedless of where they land. “Up.” Aden sat on the desk, scooting onto it a little. “No,” Raha said, voice firm but not reprimanding. “Present yourself.”

Aden sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and shakily stood again, turning his back to Raha and laying across the desk. It was broad, enough so that when he stretched out fully only a little of his arms dangled off. The solidity pressed against him reminded him of being trapped beneath it, and he focused on the closed door as Raha unfastened his trousers and tugged them down around his thighs, leaving them there. If another visitor came it would not be so easy to hide this time, with Raha’s documents scattered across the floor and Aden bent over the desk, ass in the air. That sent a little thrill through him--let them see this forbidden side of their hero. A drawer opened, and his ears perked towards the door, straining for any noise. Warm, slick fingers teased his entrance, and he gasped. Yes, let them see that the indomitable champion rolled over and raised his tail and  _ chose _ to submit. A finger slipped in and he closed his eyes, letting his head drop to the desk. If the right person came calling, would Raha send them away, or just fuck him through the meeting? Would he make a show of what lascivious noises he could pull out of Aden, never breaking eye contact while he fucked the Warrior of Darkness stupid?

With a little shudder Aden realized he would  _ let _ him, in this state of mind.

Raha prepared him as quickly as he dared, but not quick enough. Aden curled his tail over his back and tried to meet him, silently begging with the roll of his hips for  _ more _ . Oh but Raha was careful, would  _ never _ hurt him--not like this. His free hand pushed up the hem of Aden’s shirt, cool crystal seeking skin. “The perfection of your body never ceases to amaze me.” Aden drew his arms together to give him something to bury his face in, but he couldn’t protest like this.

At length Raha’s fingers left him loose and wanting, and Aden trembled with anticipation in the moments before slick hardness replaced them, pressing inside him in one long, insistent, demanding slide. Raha gripped his hips and adjusted Aden’s position across the desk, making him clench down on that solidity inside him. He felt utterly in Raha’s possession, jaw still aching and the taste of him on his tongue, and now ass full of him. They stayed like that for a long moment, Raha not moving inside him but making little shifts, touches here and there that put Aden on edge, had him clenching down around Raha’s cock. He whined, unable to form the words to ask for what he wanted, and finally Raha said, “You said you wanted me to fuck you like that. What are you waiting for?”

A shudder passed through Aden’s tail, and he moved against Raha experimentally. There was just enough room for a little shift, maybe an ilm or two-- _ definitely _ not enough to satisfy, but it would probably get Raha off eventually. Probably.  _ That _ was what he wanted more than anything, so he took what he could get, setting a slow but not particularly steady pace as he explored what he could do in this position and with the small amount of room afforded to him. At the furthest extent out his own hardness scraped the edge of the desk, and he winced. Raha reached around, made a soft, soothing noise, and cupped Aden’s cock, pressing it to his body, both protecting it and preventing him from seeking meaningful friction.

It went on for a long time, fucking himself on Raha’s dick, his own softening and hardening by turns under Raha’s hand. Just as it had while sucking him off his whole world narrowed down to the point of their contact, to the weight inside him, to the need to bring Raha  _ pleasure _ despite only having a small area to work with. Aden’s legs started to shake in this new position, his whole body much abused in a way  _ real _ restraints would’ve made easier, and finally Raha began to move, bottoming out when Aden met him. His hand left Aden’s cock to grip his hips, holding him still, and then he finally,  _ truly _ began to fuck him, hard and desperate. Aden’s tail curled again, his ears fluttering back, and he clawed at the edge of the desk, seeking some purchase to secure himself with. His fingers bit into the wood as Raha drew nearly full out then slammed back in again. Raha spared a hand for just a moment to sweep Aden’s shirt up as far as he could without drawing it over his head, leaned across him for leverage. “You’re  _ mine _ ,” he growled, breath hot on Aden’s skin, before teeth sank in just inside his shoulder blade. His hand sought out Aden’s hardness again at the absolute height of his savage pounding, jerking him to a shuddering, shouting completion in which he all but whited out. Moments later Raha came hard once more, but Aden cried out as if the orgasm were  _ his _ , still bucking against him and seeking motion.

He lay there in a muzzy, lusty haze with the weight of Raha against his back. Soft kisses soothed the vicious bite, and Raha’s hands smoothed over his hips. Gentle singing pricked his ears, low and half-murmured against his skin, and on that familiar melody Aden slowly crawled back into his right mind.

“ _ Fuck,”  _ he managed after a moment.

“Yes,” he felt Raha’s smile against him, “I believe that’s what we did.”

“Brat.”

“Mmm, your brat.” Raha kissed the bite again, a little tingle of healing magic behind his lips. “Do you hurt?”

“Yeah.”

The weight against his back shifted, Raha drawing upright. Now thoroughly warmed crystal trailed up from his hip to his lower back, just above his tail, and a little whisper of magic soothed the ache that lie beneath the scar there. “Is it a good hurt?”

Aden actively worked his sluggish brain for more than a one word answer. “Most of it.”

“Do you want to come again?” Raha pressed against him, cock still mostly hard; he could go again, thanks to their dreadfully eager biology as miqo’te.

He had to think about it for a moment. What they’d done was its own kind of release, and while it dug right down into some supremely  _ strange _ part of his brain and satisfied needs he could scarcely acknowledge half the time, it left him  _ incredibly _ horny and craving more. But he couldn’t, didn’t  _ want _ to live there. Sometimes it was a distraction, something uncomfortable that he wanted to take care of right away

“Yeah,” he said, and Raha pressed against him once more, gently. “But not yet. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Bath?”

“Yeah.” Aden nodded, pushing himself up from the desk. Raha began to pull out and Aden froze, a little sound of discontent welling up out of that submissive place in him, still near enough to speak.

“What is it?” Raha’s hands ran down his sides in a soothing caress, concern tingeing his voice. 

“I…” He had trouble asking for this sort of thing after the fact, while his right mind was still trying to assert itself. “I want to keep you in me.”

Raha’s cock twitched, still half in him, and chuckled, soft, low laughter. “That’s going to make things  _ very _ difficult.”

“I know,” Aden murmured, half-defeated. Raha’s arms wrapped around him, lips pressed to the nape of his neck.

“For you I will do  _ anything _ , love. Stay here and I’ll fetch the next best thing.” He carefully pulled out, and Aden lowered himself back to the desk, folding his arms beneath his head. He felt empty and  _ needy _ and it shamed him a little, but he knew Raha would hold true to his word, and wouldn’t shame him for his desires. If anyone in all the world knew the depth of terrible  _ want _ , of needing to feel  _ connected _ , it was Raha.

Aden had nearly nodded off when the door opened, ears pricking up. He realized he was still a mess, drool and worse dried to his chin (and probably in his beard), pants still around his thighs and presenting like a rutting beast, but he didn’t particularly give a damn, too fucked out to care. By the sound of the gait it was Raha, the way the crystal sang under his feet. Raha crossed behind him, humming that little tune he used to pull Aden from his senseless need. It worked, waking him a little. “Do you still want this, love?”

“What is it?”

Raha leaned across the desk, scooting up beside him with what seemed to be a short crystal rod chased in gold, flared at the base. He could just make out the faint lines of Allagan circuitry within, which meant it had some sort of control mechanism. “It responds to feedback through aetheric signals,” Raha explained. “Calibrates itself to weight and pressure. If you want to feel like I’m still inside you, it will get as close as possible to the sensation of that.”

“Hells,” Aden huffed, not quite a laugh. “Just how much of this stuff did you find?”

“More than I think you’d care to know.” A mischievous twinkle caught in Raha’s scarlet gaze, and Aden grinned at him.

“Go ahead.”

Raha shimmied down off the desk and after a moment slick crystal, body heat warm, pressed against his entrance. Just like the first thrust Raha pushed it in at a steady pace, but gentler, less insistent this time. When it finally seated, only the base outside, Aden immediately felt it begin to shift, weight going to one extreme of the rod, then back, an oscillating sense of pressure that was  _ almost _ overwhelming all on its own. Aden pressed his head into his folded arms with a groan, still too fucked out to enjoy this properly, and Raha rubbed a soothing circle against his back. But it finally settled on something familiar, something comforting.

This time he pushed himself up from the desk without incident, though he still turned and leaned against it while fastening his trousers. Raha picked up his sandals, hanging them over one shoulder, and wrapped an arm around Aden as they made for the door.


	24. Loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a hurry to get ready for a meeting, the Exarch forgets one very important part of his wardrobe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a prompt and a piece of art from the ever delightful [Optee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optee)! Very NSFW.
> 
> You can yell at me on Twitter [@AStormcalled](https://twitter.com/AStormcalled) or Tumblr [@dellebecque](https://dellebecque.tumblr.com/)

When Aden’s back hit the wall his arms tightened around Raha’s shoulders. With that extra leverage Raha readjusted his grip, his angle--and Aden’s head hit the wall with a thud, but he barely felt it. Then a second thud followed, and a third, and from just  _ ilms _ away through the door a voice called, “Quarter bell ‘til the meeting, your lordship.”

They looked at each other for a moment, Raha’s thrusts shallow and barely more than reflex. The guard had  _ surely _ heard them--but then they’d been the fools  _ fucking next to the door of Raha’s suites _ , hadn’t they? Raha cleared his throat and called back, “Thank you.”

Aden carefully unhooked his ankles from behind Raha’s back, but the man just took advantage to press him further against the wall, lifting his thighs. His next thrust was vicious, deep, and with a cry Aden scrambled to hold himself up, levering himself with the tension between his shoulders and Raha’s grip, his arms wrapped around Raha’s neck barely more than balance now. The awkward position just gave Raha more to work with, made every muscle in his body tense with the need to hold himself up, an inability to answer Raha’s hard thrusts or extricate himself. Not that he  _ wanted _ to, no--but he’d been prepared to. “You’re--” Aden lost a few words in a harsh gasp, “--be  _ late _ .”

Raha growled, curling over him, and scarlet eyes flashed with possessive desire. “If I can’t make you  _ come _ in time, I’ll--” He didn’t finish his threat, leaned in and bit at the corded muscle of Aden’s neck, teeth scraping across the strain of being unable to do anything but  _ hold still and get railed _ . Aden uncurled his hands from their death grip, running them up Raha’s neck into his loose hair yet damp from their earlier bath, and pressed him closer still until that graze became a bite. If he could  _ taste _ this desperation, this  _ need-- _

Aden came undone with a shout  _ surely _ loud enough to alert the guards, spilling between them--but  _ mostly _ against Raha’s stomach where he’d gained what scant friction he’d been allowed--and Raha followed shortly after, the low rumble from deep in his chest somewhere between a growl and a purr. As they came down, panting hard, he kissed that bite as always--so gentle and sweet after, and Aden wanted that but he knew he couldn’t have it. Duty called.

They were in Eulmore, after all, and each his own duties. So Raha carefully eased him down, cleaned the both of them up while Aden’s legs remembered how to stand and his tail and his lower back eased out of the uncomfortable position. With only a few minutes to spare Aden helped Raha into his robes first, and only  _ just _ finished fastening his armored jacket when a knock sounded. “Your escort is here, your lordship.”

Raha flipped his hood up, hair still cascading loose around his shoulders, and seized Aden by the front of his jacket for one last kiss, full of longing and promises of the denouement denied them. “Thank you for your insight,” the Exarch said as he opened the door. Two guards stood there, one Eulmoran and one in Crystarium colors. “That will be all, Warrior of Darkness.”

Aden’s ears flicked to the sides as he took the invitation to exit first, and the dismissal. Rumors had surely preceded them to Eulmore, but they’d agreed not to encourage them before this meeting, re-establishing and defining new trade agreements between the two cities.

That still left Aden standing in the hallway with Raha’s hair tie in his hand as the Exarch swept past, seemingly unaware that the white ends of his mane spilled from the normally mysterious depths of his hood. Aden looked from the bit of ribbon in his hand to the retreating form of his lover, and pocketed the tie in silence. He had to admit the Exarch looked _exceptionally_ striking with his hair down.


	25. Intimate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crystal of Light may be a gift of the Mother, but its connection to the soul is profound. To have another handle it....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can yell at me on twitter [@AStormcalled](https://twitter.com/AStormcalled) or tumblr [@Dellebecque](https://dellebecque.tumblr.com).

The list of things Aden always carried on his person was small. G’raha watched from the other side of the tent as a boot knife appeared, a small notebook and a pencil--all things that didn’t surprise him. But the crystal did, smooth and faceted, slowly pulsing with a soft blue glow against the lantern light. The swirl of aether inside showed vague shapes, changing with every pulse of light, shifting just before they grew distinct enough to make out. It was a maddening pursuit, and entrancing at the same time.

Aden made a soft, curious noise, and it pulled G’raha from staring at the crystal. “What is it?” G’raha asked, and Aden picked it back up, light shimmering beneath his fingers. 

They both considered the crystal in silence for a moment, then Aden tossed it to him. “Tell me what you make of it.”

G’raha scrambled to catch the unexpected throw, and wound up pinning the crystal between his wrist and his chest. It was  _ warm _ in a way he immediately felt through his shirt. When he took it in his hands he marveled at how smooth the planes were, and up close the half-formed shapes were no more distinct. The soft pulse of light quickened slightly, and he ran his fingers over it, watching light chase behind. “‘Tis beautiful,” he said, “unlike any other crystal I’ve ever handled. Watching the glow, I feel as if I am on the edge of seeing something profound, and it feels….” He shifted the crystal to run the palm of one hand across it. The texture was so  _ strange _ for a crystal, smooth but with hints of something else--almost like snatches of the visions inside made tactile. He glanced up to find Aden watching G’raha’s hands intently, one ear cocked and pupils slightly dilated. “Aden?”

“Feels...  _ weird _ ,” he murmured, voice soft and low and distracted. Aden’s tail curled lazily behind him, beating out a slow metronome in time with the pulse. G'raha ran fingertips down one edge experimentally, and watched as Aden’s tail stuttered. 

It hit him like a thunderbolt, and he nearly dropped the crystal. "Is this…?"

"My crystal of light? Yeah." Aden roused somewhat from his entrancement, and crossed to stand just in front of G'raha. "Now that I think on it I don't recollect anyone else handling it before."

G’raha had read about them in passing, mentioned as curiosities and mysteries in aetherology classes. Typically, such crystals went largely unseen and undiscussed during the lifetime of their bearer, treasured relics and sources of strange powers should they survive the bearer’s passing. He knew of at least one in the Studium’s collections, though he had never seen it, and heard rumors of a second of truly massive size in private holdings. Aden’s, however, was humble and unassuming in the simple faceting, plainly colored aside from that ethereal glow, and fit entirely in one hand. “I take it you can tell I’m handling it, somehow? Aside from the obvious.” Aden opened his mouth to reply, and then simply  _ didn’t _ when G’raha ran his thumb down one of the corners. His other ear stuttered down a little into a position of relaxation. “What does it feel like?”

Aden’s ears flicked rapidly, almost as if he were clearing them of water, and he blinked slowly once, twice, eyes locked on the crystal. His pupils returned to a more appropriate size for the lantern light, and he met G’raha’s gaze. “Intimate,” he answered, one ear flicking down again and cocked in a curious position. His tail swayed in time with that soft pulse. “Like having something inside of me that’s otherwise intangible held.”

_ Intimate _ . The way he said that word, low and soft, rang like church bells in G’raha’s head, remembering his dreadful fantasy when they’d first been asked to share a tent, and a handful of incidents since.  _ What kind of intimate _ , he wanted to ask, but he knew what Aden meant, and he wouldn’t challenge their friendship over a purely physical interest. “Like having your soul held, I imagine.”

“I reckon.” Aden’s fingers closed around the crystal and it flared to life under his touch, activity a frenetic pace for a moment. The shapes beneath the surface nearly made sense for a moment: an achingly beautiful twilight in a dark blue sky; a ripple of dragonscale and a snatch of cloud; fire raining from the sky. It was gone and half-forgotten by the time his fingers left the crystal, and Aden went to tuck it away.

“Thank you.” G’raha’s fingers missed the warmth, the shape, and that strange texture as soon as it was out of reach, and he lowered his hands to his lap palm-up, unwilling to touch anything else just yet.

“I’m glad it was you,” Aden said. “I wouldn’t want someone else to grab it and give me a surprise. Now I know what to expect.”

“I was happy to help, then. Though, if you’re ever of a mind, I’m certain half the aetherologists in Sharlayan would go through all seven hells just to talk with you about it.”

“Let me know when they get out the last hell, then.” But Aden smiled as he said it, and G’raha laughed, rubbing his fingers together as if he could press that strange feeling between them and preserve it forever.  



	26. Braids, Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aden helps the Exarch with a rather intimate task while he's still recovering from his time in Amaurot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as a sequel to a previous story, [Braids](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004394/chapters/52024639), for my dear friend Optee who demanded it. This also references events in [Burrs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004394/chapters/51372139).
> 
> You can yell at me or find information about supporting my work on twitter [@AStormcalled](https://twitter.com/AStormcalled).

Aden waited patiently in what passed for the Exarch’s bedchambers--infrequently used as he did not strictly _need_ to sleep: a very humble iron bed with an old but scarcely-used mattress, and similarly old and unused quilts. It was comfortable enough, if a little stiff, though Aden could tell just from sitting on it his back wouldn’t tolerate a night spent there any more than it would a night on the crystal floor. Not that he had _considered_ it in his vigil at the Exarch’s bedside while he recovered.

As if thinking of him summoned him, the Exarch emerged from the adjoining chamber, wrapped in a robe, damp hair loose, cheeks rosy from heat. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway for a moment, catching his breath, head bowed slightly. “...You are still here,” he murmured, tonelessly.

“I said I’d be,” Aden replied with careful neutrality. He _wanted_ to go to the Exarch, help him cross the room, but he remained where he was. It was too much, right now; he was already pushing boundaries with what the Exarch had already agreed to, what came next.

He made no reply, simply pushed off from the wall and slowly made his way across the room. In those last few fulms Aden gave in and stood, reaching out to steady him. The Exarch made a soft, exasperated sound, too tired to keep his reaction to himself, but he leaned into Aden’s touch all the same.

Aden helped him down onto the bed, and he drew both legs up, slouched in place--too tired even to maintain his usual perfect posture. Aden settled down behind him, reaching back on the bed for a little black bag and undoing the tie. “Do you need me to fetch anything before I get started?”

The Exarch’s head shifted very slightly, and for a long moment only the hum of the Tower answered. One ear shakily flicked backward, and the other out towards the door. “No,” he said at length.

Aden pulled a brush from the bag. He scooted forward just a little, close enough he could feel the Exarch’s body heat, and began to brush his hair, starting at the ends. Even though he’d practiced with the twins and Ryne at their insistence it remained an awkward angle, the motions unfamiliar from the other side. He went slow, in short, gentle strokes, taking his time with tangles, working his way up. While he worked he tried to recall if he’d ever seen G’raha’s hair down before. It ran soft and silky across his palm, and brushed out and mostly dry fanned light across G’raha’s back, the white tips just below the bottom of his shoulder blades. For just a moment Aden hesitated, warring with himself over finding some excuse to continue a little longer--it’d been a _long_ time, but with the brighter parts of his heart no longer locked away he well recalled how much _he_ enjoyed this sort of thing, how soothing it was to have this gentle, mundane attention and the rhythmic drag of fingers or a brush along his scalp. He wanted very much to _soothe_ G’raha’s hurts, for… a number of reasons, all complex and tangled up in his heart. There was the thing they had agreed not to talk about, for now, simmering in his breast; and he knew now he was partially responsible, in more ways than the obvious, for G’raha’s rough treatment at Emet-Selch’s hands; the Exarch had spent the past several moons caring for him in a hundred little ways and putting him in this place, _safe_ enough to confront both his pain and his joy; and, above all else, they had been fast friends, once. They were again, in little snatches of unguarded moments. But there was a wall between them, built of cermet bricks of the Exarch’s guilt and mortared with Aden’s lingering fear of everything that came with the answer to Thordan’s last question.

At length he settled for running his hands through the Exarch’s hair to gather up the two sides of the braid. He fussed over getting it just so, taking a long time making sure each section was equally thick, and the Exarch’s shoulders heaved once as with a swallowed cough. Aden paused, looking down at him. “Are you alright?”

He took a long moment to answer, but finally, “I’m fine.” His voice sounded strained, and Aden wanted to press but decided not to, focusing instead on the task at hand. When practicing with the twins and Ryne he’d put all his attention into _not fucking up_. Now it seemed beyond parting the hair evenly it wasn’t necessary. There was a rhythm here, too, like the one he found in battle--perhaps in the hum of the Tower, or something half-remembered from when they were younger. G’raha’s--the _Exarch_, he mentally corrected himself--hair sliding between his fingers felt right.

Aden finished, and the braid looked just fine. He tied it off, then moved on, pulling a different brush out of the bag. The Exarch heaved a resigned sigh, and shrugged out of the robe, letting it fall to his waist and carefully extracting his tail. “This truly is not necessary,” he said--but he had a little more life in his voice than he had moments before.

That was all Aden wanted, to make things _better_, even if neither of them could have what they truly desired. “I owe you,” he quipped, and gently took the Exarch’s tail in one hand, brush in the other, and started.

“For _what_?” The Exarch’s voice hitched in time with a brush stroke on the tip of his tail, and for just a split second sounded like his old self.

“The time you did this for me,” Aden answered, grinning. “All the burrs you cut out of my fur.”

The Exarch scoffed, tossing his head slightly. “I _butchered_ your hair, as I recall, and you’d never _brushed_ your tail, only _combed_ it--I still can’t begin to _fathom_\--”

Aden laughed, a sharp, short sound, but full-throated, and the Exarch cut off. Aden felt a conflicted sputter of emotion through the Echo--something warm and soft and newly familiar, and the ache of coiling in defensively. “But I liked the hair cut Jandelaine gave me afterward so much I kept it.”

“Ah….” A little tension bled out of the Exarch’s shoulders, the flickering flame of that gentle warmth winning out. “I suppose you did.”

Aden slowly worked his way up the Exarch’s tail, gently teasing apart snags until he could run his fingers through them. His fur was longer than Aden’s, softer, more luxuriant--which made sense, coming from Ilsabard. Being kept out of sight must’ve put it out of mind, compounding the matter--the Exarch’s tail wasn’t _neglected_, but it certainly wasn’t in the top-notch shape it’d been the last time Aden had handled it. “You could do with a trim.”

“Do you think you’re up to it?”

Aden hesitated, brush hanging mid stroke for just a moment. “It’ll be messy.”

“I would rather not be so…” The Exarch reached over with his spoken hand, running it along the crystal of his other arm in what Aden had come to recognize as a nervous gesture. “_Exposed_ to… anyone else.” And softly, so softly Aden strained to hear it, he added, “But you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

When he finally reached the base of the Exarch’s tail Aden moved even more carefully, trying his damnedest not to make this more intimate than it was. His fingers still brushed skin from time to time, and the soft, fine hair around where his tail disappeared into his spine. The Exarch flinched and shuddered every time, and Aden muttered, “Sorry.” Finally done, he started over, gently pulling out shed hair. There was a strange little shift in the hum of the Tower, and a very quiet, low, broken rumble that Aden’s ears perked to before realizing it was the _Exarch_. Just as the crystal had changed his voice in subtle but important ways, it'd muted his purr--or perhaps the passage of time had. It pleased Aden to hear it after so long, and such an uncertain start. As he resumed brushing he answered in kind.

"Are you--?" The Exarch shifted just enough to look over his shoulder, ears twitching in Aden’s direction. 

"You started it," Aden responded. _I want you to be at ease_ was too much, and _I want things to be the way they were_ dismissed that he wanted _more_, even as he feared the questions beneath that want.

“I remember,” the Exarch murmured, almost to himself, “I think we were on an airship. I can’t be sure, but I remember the engine noise--and I thought, perhaps… you.”

“You wouldn’t let go,” Aden said, trying to focus on his brushing. The repetitive motion, the soft fur under his hand--if he said the wrong things, he might not have this again, and he longed for the cold, heavy stone that had silenced his heart for so long--but then he would not have been brave enough to be here. “I wanted you to feel safe.” _To know it was me,_ but Aden bit his lip instead of saying it--it was too much, well outside the boundaries he had set.

“I didn’t imagine it, then.” His ears flicked back forward, and his tail tensed in Aden’s hands like it wanted to curl. “The first time I heard you was while working out the snarls left in your tail by those burrs.”

“You started humming,” Aden said. He finished and started over a third time, getting far less fur as he went. “But you answered me eventually.”

“I did.” Aden heard the soft smile in his voice, saw a little of it in the way his ears relaxed. This round of brushing went faster, and Aden pulled out a fine comb and a sharp little pair of scissors to start the meticulous process of trimming the Exarch’s tail. For a long while all that passed between them was the hum of the Tower and the snip of the scissors, Aden’s jaw set in concentration, his tongue occasionally held between his teeth. When he finished and began brushing loose hair away the Exarch finally said, “I miss it. How you made me feel, back then.”

Aden stilled, paralyzed by those words. _How you made me feel_. It could mean a hundred things, or one very heavy thing that stirred the overwhelming _want_ coiled in his breast. He wanted, very desperately, to _hold_ the man in front of him, to sit under the stars with him like they were new all over again. His throat felt suddenly tight as he remembered himself, so he settled for a soft, curious noise--if he said a single word it’d be the wrong one.

“Like I was enough,” the Exarch answered, and it meant--_everything_.

A breath escaped Aden, heavy and long-held, and he pulled a little bottle of oil from the bag, poured a couple of drops onto one hand before carefully closing it up and rubbing his hands together. “After all this time,” he asked, “do you see what I saw?”

“I think I do. But only here.” The Exarch reached back and settled his spoken hand on Aden’s knee, a hesitant, tentative touch. “Ah--forgive me.” It was gone just as quickly, and Aden nearly grabbed for his hand--nearly.

Instead he searched for something else to break the tension, and said, “Sorry, I’ve just got the one oil. Is that…?”

The Exarch laughed softly. “I don’t mind--not at all. I don’t think I’ll be out and about soon enough for anyone to ask why I smell like you.”

Aden ran his hands over the Exarch’s tail, the hair a little shorter but much fluffier, cleaner. As he worked in the oil that quiet, broken purr started up, and he warred with himself if he should answer. He’d already spent nearly a bell doing something _incredibly_ intimate, and it seemed selfish to interrupt the Exarch’s comfort again--or to want anything for himself. 

“...Aden.”

“Exarch?”

He looked over his shoulder again at that, lips pursing in thought, ears trained on Aden. Aden saw the moment where he abandoned whatever he’d been about to say, and instead said, “I know what I said before, but… G’raha is fine. When we’re alone.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t--”

G’raha’s hand returned to his knee, squeezing gently. “Please,” he said, softly. “I want to be G’raha to you.”

“G’raha,” he repeated, for the light it put back in G’raha’s eyes, the curl of the tail in his hands. This time when G’raha started to purr again, he answered.


End file.
